


This Machine Kills Fascists

by virgosunariesrising



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, M/M, Multi, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgosunariesrising/pseuds/virgosunariesrising
Summary: Anarchist eco-punk band Leaves of Grass has just been drafted to tour with populist punks Nuwanda. Lots of punk fun for the whole family. No life, no future.





	1. punk ain't dead

**Author's Note:**

> hey whats up, this is the first fanfic i've ever written ever  
> enjoy

"I don't know about this." Steven Meeks tugged anxiously on his hoop earring and pushed his glasses up his nose with his knuckles, before running a hand through his cropped red hair.  
"How bad can it be?" said Cameron from the grungy bathroom of the green room, spending an extravagant time on gelling his hair, making it sure it was as purposefully disheveled as possible. Gerard Pitts, the drummer, was sprawled on a threadbare couch and was beating a cadence on his leg, taking up the whole space and then some with his impressive height.  
"What kind of band name is Nuwanda anyway? It seems a little appropriative."  
"Who cares if it's appropriate?" Cameron had now moved on to rubbing sawdust on his Docs to make them look more broken in. 

 

"Appropriative, jackass. Also, how and why did you bring sawdust? Wouldn't it be easier to, like, tie them to the bumper of the van and just drive around?"  
"I really thought you boys would be more excited about this." Keating, their manager, sounded crestfallen and disappointed. The kind wrinkles around his eyes seemed to droop at the idea that all the work he'd done in the past months had amounted to next to nothing.  
"We are excited! We're just a little dubious, is all." Meeks assured him, flashing a genuine smile. "I mean, the last thing we want to be seen as sellouts. We make such a point of sticking to our message and making a statement. Touring with a relatively mainstream band could really send the wrong idea to some of our brothers and sisters in arms." 

 

Pitts rolled his eyes at Meeks's melodramatic phrasing and gestured towards their bassist, seated at a card table in the corner. "What do you think, Todd?"  
Todd's mousy blond head was bowed in concentration, silently fingering the frets of the bass in his lap. Pitts's question snapped him out of his trance and he blushed slightly at having all the attention in the room be turned on him.  
"I-I think that Meeks s-should make the final decision. He is our frontman after all."  
Meeks looked positively elated at having someone in his corner and Pitts once again rolled his eyes.  
"Cameron! Are you done in there or what?" Pitts punctuated the question with a extra hard rap on the couch's armrest.

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

"Leaves of Grass? We're touring with eco-punks?" Charlie Dalton gaped, his straight leonine nose crinkled in disbelief and he finished applying fake African war symbols onto his cheeks with lipstick.  
"I think they're pretty fucking cool, actually." said his companion, turning her attention back to bleaching her hair. "Like, how many punk bands are there nowadays that actually have a message and something to say? Most of them are just in it for the money and the faux-philosophy of violence and thinly-veiled misogyny."  
"Yeah, yeah, Ginny, I get it, men are evil and completely ruined the punk movement. Could you make it more obvious that you're a lesbian?"  
Ginny whirled around and was winding up to grab Charlie by the collar when a petite blonde girl entered the room and immediately set the two at ease.  
"Charlie, you're looking too smug for anything good to be happening." said Blondie, giving the two of them a pointed look. "I'll ask the two of you again to stop antagonizing each other."  
"Chris, he's insulting our sexual identities AND our autonomy as self-aware intelligent women!"  
"Honey, when isn't he insulting literally everything about everyone?" 

 

Chris turned towards Charlie and landed a swift punch to the gut. Charlie doubled over, struggling to regain his breath and wishing he hadn't thrown his jeans in the dryer to tighten them right before the show. "Having said that," Chris smiled a dangerous little smile, "If you talk shit to my girl again, I'll make sure you never tour any circuits ever again. You're a shitty guitarist anyway."  
"Yeah!" agreed Ginny, punching the air with one tightly curled plastic glove-covered fist.  
"Didn't we all agree to not engage in violence off-stage?" Nuwanda's frontman Neil Perry swept into the room, looking the part of a dirty-hot punk legend in the making. His brown hair was buzzed in the back, but his bangs were intact, flopping into his eyes in an effortless, boy-band way that Charlie simultaneously resented and admired.  
"Fuck off, Perry." Charlie wheezed, doing his best not to look like he was still reeling from his actions actually having consequences.  
Neil smiled a crooked and charming half-smile, stooping to help Charlie to his feet. 

 

Neil put his arm around Charlie's shoulders and gave the ladies a salute as they left the room, just as breezy and easygoing as he had entered.  
"You gotta stop being such a fucking dick all the time." said Neil ruefully, trying to be mindful of his best friend's wounded pride.  
"How was I being a dick?! I asked her a simple question and she overreacted!"  
"Ain't that just like a woman?" Neil deadpanned, hoping to God Charlie picked up on the irony and didn't take it as the jumping off point for a rant.  
"Did you hear about our opening act?" Charlie abruptly changed the subject.  
"Yeah, they're the....environmental group, right?"  
"They sound like fucking squares, but maybe they'll get the crowd whipped up about fucking....I don't know, their carbon footprint or whatever." 

 

They rounded the corner and slammed into their drummer, Knox Overstreet, who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. His boyish bowl cut was mussed in a suggestive way, and his lips looked raw and swollen. "Having fun, stud?" Charlie gave him a shit-eating grin.  
"This is the worst thing that could've possibly happened! Chris walked in on me and some girl and now she's going to hate me forever! I blew my chance!"  
Neil and Charlie looked at him with an expression of such stoic calm that it was very obvious that this wasn't a new concern for Knox, but rather that Knox was just this stupid all the time.  
Neil put his hands on Knox's shoulders and shook him gently with every word he spoke: "Chris Noel is a lesbian. She is with Ginny Danbury, her girlfriend, who is also a lesbian. She has never, and will never, have any interest in your dick, dude. You're in love with a lesbian. She will never reciprocate your feelings. She has. No. Interest. In. You." Knox looked bewildered.  
"Sexual attraction isn't everything, you know! Just because she's sexually interested in women doesn't mean my love is unrequited!"  
Neil clapped his friend on the shoulder and gave him a thin-lipped, impatient smile.  
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

"Okay. I'll admit. I'm pretty psyched about this." Pitts's deep voice blended in with the rattling background hum of the crowd entering the bar and having conversations amongst themselves before the show started, making it hard to understand what he was saying.  
"What?" yelled Meeks, who was indeed having a hard time understanding what Pitts was saying.  
Todd smiled fondly at them both.  
"You're supposed to be blind, not deaf." Cameron quipped, before getting smacked upside the head by an ever vigilant Keating.  
"That's enough, Mr. Cameron. I don't need you sowing the seeds of discontent into this band."  
"How is making a joke sowing any kind of seed? They joke all the time and you NEVER-"  
Cameron's whining faded into the background as Todd moved farther away from his friends and bandmates and towards the grimy, tiny backstage bathroom. The door was covered with graffiti and stickers from various decades, as well as a surprising realistic mural of Elizabeth Fraser as Botticelli's Venus. The stall doors were painted with faded green peeling paint and Todd went about washing his hands and rubbing some water on his neck to try and calm himself down before the show.

 

Todd has always been an anxious child, who grew into an anxious teen, who then became a young adult with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, with big capitalized letters. The fact that he accepted an invitation to join a band was staggering, the fact that it was a punk band even more so. He liked playing the bass. It was important, it mattered in the structure of the music, but he could hide behind Meeks's impassioned yelps and Pitts's complex blast beats while still feeling alive, feeling a part of it. He looked at himself in the mirror, met with his own hooded blue eyes with deep dark circles and a dishwater blond crop-cut that Meeks had given him with a pair of clippers behind the grocery store where they all worked. 

 

The bathroom door crashed open suddenly, as if kicked in from the outside. A young man entered, with brown floppy bangs and an impeccably fitted leather jacket. His ratty black jeans looked like they were made just for him and his white t-shirt was ripped at the neck, showing more chest than was completely necessary. Todd felt his face heat up and he did his damnedest not to look at him anymore than he already had. Beautiful Floppy Bangs approached the bay of sinks and started washing his hands as well, splashing some water on his face just to torture poor Todd (this was Todd's interpretation, anyway).  
"Hey! You're in Leaves of Grass, right?" Todd's stomach plummeted in horror when he realized the man was talking to him.  
"Y-yes. I play b-bass." Todd had never despised his stutter more than in that moment. Floppy Bangs smiled a million-watt smile that made Todd's insides feel like they had just been nuked in a microwave.  
"I'm Neil," he extended his hand to be shaken, "I sing and play bass for Nuwanda. You guys are opening for us this tour!"  
Todd shook his hand numbly and dumbly, hopelessly and embarrassingly lost in his sparkling dark eyes and praying to God his blush wasn't that noticeable in the rose-tinged light of the bathroom. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

A smug, self-satisfied smile tugged at the corners of Neil's mouth and he did his best to keep it contained. The boy in front of him was adorable to say the least, with his big blue puppy dog eyes and long-sleeved t-shirt that seemed to swallow him and hang loosely on his scrawny frame.  
"Well, I guess I'll see you on stage then!" Neil's Hollywood smile faltered just a bit when he realized this kid was actually super nervous.  
"You'll do great, don't worry about it! These kids are just here to rebel and try to make statement in a world that doesn't care what they have to say. Be their voice!" Neil's speech was contrived and stale, he knew that, and he had a feeling that Blue Eyes knew this as well, but he had to keep up the charade for just a little longer.  
He moved to breeze back out the door, when he heard Blue Eyes say, very quietly, "I'm Todd."  
"Great to meet you, Todd!" He smiled a dazzling smile and felt Todd tense up tighter than he had been before (which Neil didn't think was possible). Neil gave him a dramatic and completely ridiculous bow, complete with flourish, and exited the bathroom, giggling to himself.  
Todd stood, totally shattered, in front of the bathroom mirrors and began fanning himself, trying to quell his blushing before facing his bandmates.

 

When he returned to where the guys were stationed, Cameron was missing, assumedly gone to get a drink. Pitts was eyeing a guy farther down the hall and Meeks was educating Keating on the health benefits of kombucha.  
"Hey Todd, what do you think of him?" Todd turned his attention to the object of Pitts's observation: a young man of average height with a round face and prominent nose, whose hair was cut into what could only be described as a prep-school bowl cut.  
"His hair is pretty unfortunate." Todd said, as Pitts nodded sadly in agreement. "Is he in a band?"  
"That's Nuwanda's drummer. I think his name is Nick or something." Pitts looked pensive, sizing his competition up.  
"I met their frontman in the bathroom..." Todd supplied quietly and shakily, still reeling from that smile and those eyes.  
"Oh yeah?" Pitts raised an eyebrow, "What was he like?"  
"Cocky, outgoing." Intoxicating, gorgeous...  
Pitts barked a laugh. "That's most frontmen, dude. Take our very own Steven Meeks into consideration."  
Meeks perked up at the mention of his full name, and turned towards the two.  
"You talking shit?" Meeks joked, opening his arms in a "come at me" gesture.  
"Whoa there, tiger. Save it for the pit." Pitts threw his arm around Meeks's shoulders in a gruff but friendly way.  
"Leaves of Grass?" a venue employee came up to them, popping her gum. "You're on in five."  
Todd felt his stomach fall out of his ass, Cameron finished his second drink in one massive chug, and even Pitts looked a little jittery.  
Meeks clapped his hands together. "Alright, comrades. Let's go educate the masses."


	2. open up the pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lots of graphic fighting and bleeding and whatnot in this!  
> if that bothers u, be forewarned
> 
> also I'm trying to figure out how to format this so your eyes don't like explode when u read it

The crowd was absolutely fucking insane. Meeks was screaming into the mic and Pitts was sweating so much that the drums splashed every time he hit them. Todd was trying to stay as close to the back of the stage as he could without bumping into Pitts and Cameron was almost in the crowd, thrashing around with his guitar and spitting his beer onto the kids at the barricade. It seemed to Todd that the entire floor was ebbing and flowing, a literal sea of people, all screaming and intense and completely alive. He felt more exhilarated than he had in a long time, not since Meeks had roped him into slashing their boss's tires a few months earlier. 

 

Neil and Charlie stood just offstage, both trying to act like they weren't impressed. Charlie tried not to stare at the frontman's ass in those leather pants and Neil was trying not to stare at Todd giving in to the reckless abandon of the music. Knox came up from behind and wiggled between them, putting his arms around their shoulders.  
"They don't suck at all! I thought they would suck!" Knox said smilingly, yelling above the cacophony of righteous environmentally-aware rage.   
Meeks ended the song with a off-key screech, flinging the mic stand off the end of the stage while holding onto the mic itself.   
"Fuck the corporations! Fuck the fascists destroying our earth for their own fucking monetary gain! Fuck the capitalists!" Meeks had sweat streaming into his eyes and he was squinting so hard at the crowd he looked a bit like a mole but his voice cracked and rang off the discolored cinderblock walls and the crowd crowed back at him in full force. He chunked the mic to the ground and led his band offstage. The effect was supposed to make them look organized and like a collective but Pitts had gotten glued to his leather drum stool in the heat of the stagelights and was having to squirm back and forth to disengage his sticky thighs from the cushion, and Todd was having to gingerly step over the pieces of equipments and stage accents Meeks and Cameron had torn apart in a frenzy during the show.   
"You realize that we're the headliners and we shouldn't feel threatened by a band that caters to a very niche subgenre of political engagement." Charlie wasn't addressing either of his bandmates in particular but he couldn't help but notice Neil and Knox's faces had paled considerably after seeing the crowd's reaction to Leaves of Grass. 

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

"Oh my god!" Meeks spun around to face the rest of his band with a look of complete and indelible elation.  
"Do you fucking see that?! Do you feel that?!" His glasses were askew and the heat of the lights had made his face turn pink and his freckles look like someone had taken a can of tan spray paint and a sponge to his face. He put his hands on Cameron's shoulders (Cameron being the physically closest to him in the moment) and let them rest there as he took a huge breath in, like someone who had never known the crispness of fresh air.  
"That? That's what the fuck I signed up for." Pitts gleamed in the dim fluorescent lights of the backstage, both with sweat and the satisfaction of a job well done, with a enormous smile on his face.   
"I really liked that." They all turned to Todd, who sounded winded and totally serene at the same time. Sweat had stuck his hair to his head and he looked a bit like a Q-tip but his eyes were blazing and the corners of his mouth tugged upward.   
Meeks gazed at him like a proud parent before bringing him in for a hug. Cameron scoffed and Pitts gave him a good punch in the arm.   
"Boys! Gentlemen! That was absolutely transcendent!" Keating approached with a beer in his hand, arms outstretched and beaming with pride. "The crowd was enthralled, enchanted! Hanging on to every word our good Mr. Meeks had to say!"   
Meeks looked sheepish then, obviously embarrassed at what he regarded as very high praise.   
"I wouldn't say they hung on to every word..."   
"WHATS UP MOTHERFUCKERS!" a jarring shout went up onstage and the crowd faltered for just a moment, putting the pieces together before losing their collective shit. Nuwanda had taken the stage and one could not have heard oneself think in the ensuing chaos of cheers and enthusiastic shouts of angsty adolescent rebellion that erupted, ripped from the lungs of the crowd like gauze on a healed wound.   
"Do you think we should go see what all the brouhaha is about?" asked Keating with eyebrows raised.  
"I suppose." said Cameron with a indifferent sneer.  
"I guess." Pitts shrugged.  
"Yes! We have to!" Meeks was still riding the high of the set and trembled with adrenaline.  
Only Todd remained silent, suddenly afraid of watching Nuwanda perform. They were all so proud of their first performance as an opening act, but they were just that: an opening act. How were they going to compare to the headliners? The main course? The current darlings of the punk scene, with enough slogans and political fuel to make them frightening to overly-involved parents but with enough pop sensibilities to make them palatable to the braying masses? Todd thought of Neil's face, slicked with sweat and thrown back in the ecstasy of being lost in the music and he thought his knees were going to give out. 

 

"Maybe we shouldn't." Todd's response was quiet but balanced. Four pairs of eyebrows went up. "What if it like...shatters our confidence? They're a big deal, people come to see them, not us. What if it psychs us out and ruins our whole vibe?"  
There was a pause.   
"I would like to think we're not that insecure," Pitts said, twirling a drumstick between his fingers, "but I do think Todd has a point. Humility is overrated." He cracked a smile and tapped Todd's shoulder lightly with his stick.   
Meeks looked pensive.   
"Whatever, I'm going." Cameron pushed by Todd and Pitts and proceeded out to the crowd.   
"Hope you get your fucking teeth knocked out in the pit, Dick!"   
Cameron flipped them off without looking back. Pitts turned conspiratorially back to the group. "We really should kick him out, you know."   
Keating rolled his eyes. "Now, now, Mr. Pitts. Mr. Cameron enriches the group in the same way the rest of you do."  
"I don't want to watch them perform, either," said Meeks with finality, having obviously not paid any attention to last few minutes of discussion. "I don't want to get discouraged when we've started off so strong, you know?"

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

Chris and Ginny stood in the sound booth at the back of the bar, doing their best to accommodate to Nuwanda's unbridled energy. "If Charlie screams into the mic one more time, I'll kill him."   
Charlie screeched into the mic and then threw himself into the crowd, guitar and all. Ginny turned slowly to her girlfriend. "I'm gonna kill him."   
Chris chuckled lightly, "I know, honey, that's been your prerogative since day one. Kill Charlie Dalton."   
"I'll have to run the idea by Tarantino, I can already smell the Oscars."   
"I'm gonna go grab us some drinks." Chris patted Ginny's back on her way out.  
Ginny sighed and tried to readjust the sliders to give Neil more leverage over Charlie's unwanted volume.   
"HEY!" Ginny's head snapped up and she saw Neil looking into the crowd, horrified. "HEY!" he shouted again. The crowd had opened up a space in the pit and people were gathered around, egging something on. Ginny saw a flash of brown hair and a bloody nose and realized why Neil was so horrified about a fight in the pit.

 

Neil leaped off the stage and vaulted the barricade, pushing through the throng to separate Charlie and some fucking prick with gelled hair. Charlie's nose was bloodied and dripping all the way to his chin and his eyebrow had been cut open by Gelled Prick’s ring. He had a nasty shiner developing on his right eye and he had his teeth bared. The lipstick he used to decorate his face was smeared all over his cheek, making him look even messier. Blood from his nose was getting into his mouth and staining the white of his teeth red. He swung and hit his opponent in the nose, and felt it crunch wetly beneath his fist. Neil caught Charlie's arms and held them behind his back, while another fan got the opponent in a bear hug. "Hey! Hey, calm it down, dude. Chill."  
He could feel Charlie breathing heavy and rough, shaking with adrenaline.   
His opponent spit and looked at Charlie dead in the eyes. "My band doesn't suck. I play a fucking wicked guitar." He shook the fan off of him and made his way out of the crowd.  
"Neil, let me go."  
"You're not gonna follow him?"  
"No." Charlie spat out through gritted teeth. Neil released him and he went to grab his guitar from a nervous fan who had been holding it throughout the altercation. "Let's go." He wiped his nope with the sleeve of his t-shirt and hopped back over the barricade, with Neil trailing closely behind.

 

Leaves of Grass were gathered around a small table near the bar, all nursing warm Pabst Blue Ribbon that they had been snuck by a female employee. They had been deeply absorbed in a conversation on the ethics of coal as a viable fuel source and hadn't really paid any attention to Nuwanda's guitarist getting wailed on in the pit.   
"What the fuck happened to you?!" Pitts exclaimed as Cameron approached them from the crowd. Cameron's hair was actually disheveled now, and his nose was at a very unnatural angle. A big throbbing bruise was starting to form right under his left eye. "What the fuck does it look like? I was defending our honor."  
There was a pause as his bandmates looked at him with expressions that ranged from bug-eyed disbelief to utter joy.  
"You got into a fight? Like an actual fistfight with another human being?" Pitts asked incredulously.   
"Yeah. That fucking pretty boy asshole guitarist was talking shit. He said we were posers."  
"His band is called Nuwanda and he draws pseudo-tribal shit on his face and we're posers?"  
"Exactly! Hey, can I get a shot of Jack?" Cameron gestured to an employee near the end of the bar.  
"I hate that you're the only one of us that's actually 21," Meeks mumbled into his beer.  
"Wait, can you have beer, Meeks? Like with the vegan thing?"  
"Beer is just fermented wheat, there's no animal product involved."   
"That you know of. With all the weird additives they put into literally everything now, you could be drinking like one-sixteenth cow sperm or something."  
"Alright, Harold and Maude," Pitts interrupted, "Let's leave this debate for another time. Cameron, get over here and let me fix your nose, none of us have money for an ER."   
Cameron swiped a chair from a nearby table and sat down dutifully next to Pitts. The shot of Jack arrived just in time, and Cameron knocked it back as Pitts positioned the palms of his hands on either side of Cameron's nose.   
"Alright, count me down."  
"Five...four...three...two..."  
Pitts jerked his hands and a sharp crack echoed around the table, accompanied by a loud "FUCK" from Cameron. "You'll probably wanna put some ice on that."   
"Did he really call us posers?" Todd asked.  
"Yeah." came Cameron's nasal reply, from his hands squeezing his nose to stop any bleeding. "He was just fucking around in the pit and he saw me and said that we were lucky they were letting posers like us tour with them."  
"Fuck that guy." Meeks said emphatically, "He has a shitty haircut anyway. And his boots are definitely real leather, so you know he has next to no morals."   
"Meeks, not being vegan doesn't equal evil. We're all just regular vegetarians, you're the one that took that leap."   
"It's more ethical! How can we call ourselves green activists if we're still causing harm to the earth through the food we consume?"  
"Guys, can we please do this another time? Also I'm a pescetarian, for the record."  
Meeks look scandalized. "You're what?" The betrayal was written clear on his face.  
"Dude, I have low blood sugar, I can't just skimp on protein like that." Todd mumbled, looking fixedly at the floor and not at Meeks's disappointment.   
"Man. Maybe we are posers." Meeks said miserably.  
"For God's sake, Steven!" Pitts didn't use Meeks's first name very often, "Todd eating salmon every now and again isn't going to undermine our band's political stance."  
"I actually prefer tuna."  
"Todd, stop splitting hairs."

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

"Ok, so what exactly did you say to him?" Knox offered an ice pack, which Charlie begrudgingly accepted. He had cleaned himself up, save for his clothes, which had a fair amount of blood splattered on them from his monumental nosebleed.   
"I was just honest with him. I told him his band was a bunch of posers and they sucked."  
"That was being honest with him?" Neil asked incredulously. Much more quietly he said, "Why do you have to be such a fucking prick all the time? Why can't you just let other people live their fucking lives?"  
"I don't like people walking around with falsely inflated egos, it's irritating."  
Neil looked amazed. "How fucking ironic!"  
Knox moved quickly to defuse the situation before it turned into a situation.  
"Alright, alright, so we can all agree that maybe that wasn't the smartest thing Charlie could have done?"   
"I'm not apologizing."  
"Yes you fucking are." The boys turned to see Ginny enter the room. She walked right up to Charlie and smacked him, hard.   
"Ginny, what the fuck?!" Charlie squawked, but Ginny hauled him up and dragged him by his ear to the door that led out into the bar. She saw the other band sitting at a small table, one of them looking a little more battered than the others.  
"Do you have any idea how fucking embarrassing this is?!"   
"I have a vague idea."

She continued on with Charlie in tow. As she got nearer to them, Pitts said "Is that him?" to Cameron who hopped up and started toward him, ready to finish what they started before Keating, who'd been reading silently throughout this entire ordeal and letting the boys sort everything out amongst themselves, pulled him back into his seat.   
"Hello, boys." Ginny stood with one hand on her hip and the other cruelly twisted on Charlie's ear, making sure he wouldn't try to bolt as soon as she stopped dragging him.  
"This is Charlie Dalton of Nuwanda, I'm sure at least one of you is familiar with him," she said with a meaningful look at Cameron, who was busy shooting daggers at Charlie. "Charlie is going to apologize for being a giant prick, aren't you, Charles?"  
Charlie glared at her, making her twist his ear harder. "Ow, Ginny, what the fuck?!!"  
"Apologize." She commanded, slowly enunciating all of the syllables.   
Charlie set his jaw and turned reluctantly towards Cameron.  
"I'm sorry for insulting your music group, gentlemen." Every word dripped with insincerity but Ginny was satisfied for the moment.  
Ginny looked expectantly at Cameron, and eventually so did his bandmates.   
"Apology accepted?"  
"Great!" Ginny released her iron grip on Charlie's ear and pulled up another chair to the table. "Charlie, why don't you hang out for a bit?" She pushed him down into the chair. "I'll go grab Neil and Knox, and you guys can have like...a punk rock powwow or something." She clapped her hands together like a bonafide PTA mom and promptly left them, presumedly to get Neil and Knox.   
Charlie took a look around at the table.   
"Great talk, guys." he said with a saccharine smile and went to rise when he was almost immediately pushed back down the gentle but strong hands of Chris, who smiled benignly at the eco-boys and a little threateningly at Charlie.   
"I'm Chris Noel, Nuwanda's sound tech." She offered her free hand to each of Leaves of Grass's members, as well as Keating. "I saw you already met my girlfriend, Ginny Danbury."   
"She seemed lovely." Pitts offered with a smile, and looked at Charlie a little mockingly but at this point Charlie was just assuming everyone was mocking him.   
"She is," Chris affirmed with a bright smile.  
"Hi, honey!" Ginny greeted as she returned with the missing two-thirds of Nuwanda following behind her like petulant children. "Neil Perry, Knox Overstreet. Leaves of Grass." She gestured between the two groups, indicating introductions.  
She and Chris turned and looked at the boys who were seated. They looked back before a minute before they realized they were waiting for them to introduce themselves.  
"I'm Meeks. Steven Meeks."  
"Cameron. Richard Cameron."  
"Okay, Lames Bond 1 and 2. I'm Gerard Pitts."  
Todd looked like a deer in headlights. "And this is Todd Anderson." Todd squeaked in confirmation.  
"John Keating, their manager. A pleasure to meet all of you." Keating actually stood up and bowed of all things and the boys rolled their eyes good-naturedly.   
Chris giggled. "A very elegant introduction, John."  
"Please, just call me Keating. Even more elegant, I think."  
"You strike me as more of a drama teacher than the manager of a punk band." said Neil, smiling and setting everyone at ease.  
"He was our drama teacher before he was our manager," said Meeks, "and our English teacher."  
"Public school is a helluva place." Pitts interjected.   
"Well, how would you all feel about grabbing a bite to eat somewhere?" asked Chris politely, "I think the venue is ready to close."  
She was right, the bar had almost completely emptied out now that the show was done and the employees looked eager to wipe their table down.   
They all rose to go, feeling sheepish that they hadn't noticed the emptiness of the bar sooner.   
As they exited and started down the street, Neil fell in step with Todd.   
"You really play a mean bass."  
Todd flushed and hoped it wasn't obvious in the stringent light of the streetlamps.   
"Thanks. I'd compliment your singing but I wasn't really listening."  
Neil laughed and it sounded bright and musical against the grimy sounds of the city street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm eating a fucking sonic cheeseburger
> 
> no gods no masters


	3. federally regulated environmental destroyers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chap 3!!! thanks for all the super sweet comments, i really appreciate it. if ur interested, u can follow me on tumblr at flannery-oconnors and on twitter @gothjupiter

"I would have never thought a band of environmental activists would be vegetarians. Of all the things I've seen..." said Charlie sarcastically, feigning disbelief with a shake of his head. Knox rolled his eyes.  
"This looks like a great place, guys!" Knox enthused, trying his damnedest to bridge the division Charlie had put between them and Leaves. Chris gave him a encouraging and proud smile.  
"Yeah," Neil jumped in, "I've always wanted to try..." he looked at the restaurant's sign uncertainly, "...Jerusalem Garden."  
"They specialize in vegan Middle Eastern food. Their falafel? To die for." Pitts made an OK symbol with his hand and wagged his thick eyebrows.  
"Always been more of a tabouleh man, myself." Charlie deadpanned and Meeks had to stuff his hands in the pockets of his jacket to stop himself from smashing his smug little face in.  
"Dude, I fucking know." whispered Cameron to Meeks, with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.  
Charlie noticed Meeks's glare. "Maybe you should clean your glasses, shithead, so you won't have to squint at me like that."  
There was no way he wasn't aware that only 2 of the 9 individuals surrounding him didn't actively want to beat his ass. Luckily for Charlie, the hostess came to usher them to two tables pushed together, and they all settled in their seats. Knox sat himself on the side of the table nearest the bellydancer, which was where Leaves of Grass had stationed themselves, and they all gave him a look, surprised he was breaking off from his group to ogle an obviously middle-aged woman in a glittery bra and matching sarong.

 

"He's a slave to his hormones." Todd jumped as he felt warm breath on his ear, and turned to see Neil had sat down next to him. He smiled warmly at Todd's increasing blush. "And he's very dramatic. One time at school, this girl didn't return his feelings and he wrote this like huge lovesick ode about how his heart was being ripped from his chest, and I quote, 'like the chest buster from Alien, only worse'. He wrote in free verse most of the time because he can't rhyme to save his life."  
"That's g-good to know." Todd smiled weakly and looked vaguely nauseous.  
"He's been in love with Chris for months."  
"Like your sound tech Chris? The lesbian?"  
"Yeah," Neil laughed.

 

"So what exactly is tahini, four eyes?" Charlie addressed Meeks, who had unwittingly sat across from him.  
Meeks glared at him and didn't answer, training his eyes on his menu.  
"Did you cut your hair yourself? Is that like an anarchist thing or do you enjoy looking like a seventh grader?"  
Meeks's eyes flashed. "Tahini are roasted sesame seeds that are blended into a sauce."  
"Excellent, that's good to know. I was hoping you'd answer the personal question first."  
"Maybe you shouldn't have phrased it like a huge prick." Meeks raised his voice and the rest of his band looked at him nervously.  
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "You seem a little keyed up."  
Ginny looked like she was about to smack the teeth out of his mouth. "So, Steven," she began, drawing his attention away from Charlie, "how did you become so involved in environmental activism?"  
The entire band perked up at the question, and happy with the shift in tension, she kicked Charlie under the table.  
"Well...I guess it all started when I entered high school. Like, I'm 14 and I have no idea about what I want to do with my life. I didn't care about anything, you know? That typical teenage apathy. But then I read Silent Spring by Rachel Carson. Have you ever read it?"  
The blank looks answered that question for him.  
Meeks had started to get excited, leaning farther across the table. "We're killing our planet and we don't care. You try to talk to Joe Schmo about climate change and they just block you out, they refuse to listen. Over the past 50 years, the change in climate has been completely caused by humans, we've increased the amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere exponentially. And we continue to rape the land and drain every bit of life from the thing that gives us life. It's fucked up."  
"How can we respect ourselves if we refuse to respect what sustains us?" Pitts added, taking a sip of green tea that the waitress had brought.  
Knox had adopted a look of solemnity, nodding intelligently throughout Meeks's rant. Neil tried to look encouraging even though frankly, he didn't give a shit, and Charlie had been trying to cook up some snarky comment since Meeks started talking.  
Pitts had ordered a green tea for Todd as well, and Todd curled his hand around the cup just to enjoy the warmth. Neil watched him do this with infinite curiosity.  
Todd worried the tip of his tongue between his teeth and smiled imperceptibly at Pitts's and Cameron's bickering about how communism is a farce but how /exactly/ is it a farce, Knox adding fuel to the fire by saying that "The idealism of communism is a good thing, right?"  
________________________________________________________________________________

 

The meal passed without much consequence, Charlie and Neil choking down the dolmas they had both ordered but ended up hating, Knox digging into some fattoush, Chris and Ginny sharing a plate of pita and hummus and Keating not eating at all.  
It had started to rain, and in the quiet of the late night, the street became slick and shiny. The walk back to the venue was uneventful and quiet, the chaos of the night finally hitting everyone at once.  
Keating had loaded Leaves's equipment onto the van while Cameron and Charlie were duking it out, for which they all sincerely thanked him. Pitts and Cameron had already piled into the van and promptly fallen asleep in the backseat. Todd and Meeks sat on the curb sharing a cigarette while Keating double-checked to make sure they had everything. Their van was a 1990 baby blue Chevrolet Astro, with a little trailer attached for the equipment. Todd and Meeks snickered at a sleeping Pitts's face pressed up against the window, with his mouth open and drool clearly collecting between the glass and his chin.  
Nuwanda had managed to secure an RV, which was only a few steps away from a real-deal tour bus. Todd and Meeks watched them load their amps. Neil straightened back up after lowering one into the hatches underneath the RV and caught Todd's eye, giving him a "what's up" nod. Todd smiled and gave him a little wave.

 

"Hmm..." said Meeks, "I see. You're developing the hots for pretty boy frontman."  
Todd sputtered. "I am NOT! I like Neil, he's nice to me. He's nice in general."  
"His friendship with Douchedick Capitalism-for-Brains would suggest otherwise."  
"I don't think Charlie's that bad. Maybe he's one of those people that you have to get to know first."  
Meeks raised his eyebrows. "What more is there to know? He's arrogant, mean-spirited, a DICK. He has a superiority complex and essentially gets off on the ridicule of others. He's not even that funny. Or charming. Not to mention he, you know, assaulted Cameron."  
"I never said he was charming. And not to argue, but you can't say that Cameron didn't have it coming."  
"Neither did I! I said he WASN'T charming, Todd. Pay attention. And yeah, he did have it coming, but he should've had his ass kicked by one of us, not some fucking random guy from a sellout band."  
Todd rolled his eyes without any venom, and took the last drag of the cigarette, stomping it out against the wet pavement.  
"Gentlemen?" Keating beckoned, and they got into the van, Meeks riding shotgun and Todd squeezed in between two boys who were much taller than him. They settled in for the long haul, 3 hours between them and Portland, their first tour date. 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

Knox groaned from the coach in the main cabin of the RV. They hadn't really taken his chronic car sickness into consideration when they agreed to a national tour. He clutched a brown paper bag in a queasy fist and tried his hardest to think about anything but vomiting and enjoying Chris's attention.  
Chris was babying him and rubbing his back while Ginny drove, and Knox would have been beaming ear to ear if his mouth wasn't in an intimate relationship with his barf bag.  
Charlie was trying to read a Playboy tucked into a Shakespeare omnibus, not because he was embarrassed of reading a Playboy but more because he thought the idea of a Playboy inside of book of Shakespeare was hilarious, and Neil had headphones in, bobbing his head gently to the music. He had a steno pad and pencil in his lap and he tapped the pencil lightly against the pad in time to the music and made a valiant effort to write a new song. After several minutes of staring at a blank pad, Neil tossed his headphones off a little too roughly in frustration, and tried even harder to concentrate.  
Everything they've done so far had been so trite and lifeless, there was no real passion in their music, at least as far as Neil was concerned. They would never admit it, especially to Leaves of Grass, of all bands, but they were the least rebellious, most boring punks any of them knew. They had all met at private school in Vermont, all their fathers worked in Fortune 500 companies, they had played lacrosse together for God's sake. They got into this whole thing mainly to piss off their parents, Neil especially. He still relished how beet-red his father's face had gotten when Neil told him he was moving to Seattle to start a band. Fuck the Ivy League. Neil had no interest in it.  
"Hey." Neil looked up to see Charlie peering at him over his omnibus/dirty magazine. "You're thinking too loud."  
Neil gave him a grateful smile and went to kick him, but his foot wouldn't reach.  
Charlie chuckled and flipped him off, while Knox continued to puke his guts out as the dark highway flew past them outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> knox has a weak stomach  
> charlie and meeks r gonna have crazy hate sex at the some point in the future  
> todd and neil r sweet babies  
> pitts? my man


	4. love to be hated/dead yuppies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a MONSTER. i painted my nails pale pink and listened to superstition by stevie wonder 57 times over the course of a couple days. i had to act as a conduit for those sweet funky grooves. you know that scene in gravity falls where stan is watching tv and he's chanting FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT and the show is like BABY FIGHTS and its literally two babies fighting? that's this chapter. also I'm watching house and he's jogging while listening to feel good inc and I've never considered to concept of house being a gorillaz fan but it makes perfect sense in theory. I'm drinking a dr. pepper, no gods no masters

Pitts woke up with his cheek and shoulder covered in drool, one from being pressed against the window and the other from Todd shifting onto him at some point during the drive. Keating was listening to a jazz station and the music piped softly throughout the warm van. Meeks was snoring quietly in the seat up front, and Pitts could see the taillights of Nuwanda's RV just ahead of them.   
"Hey, Keating," Pitts said, his voice rough from sleep, "where are we exactly?"  
"Just 30 minutes out, Mr. Pitts. We should be in Portland soon."   
"Are we gonna be getting a hotel room or anything?"  
"Not for a while." Keating admitted reluctantly. "We probably won't get rooms until we're well into California."  
Pitts wanted to groan, but didn't want to upset an already downtrodden Keating, who he knew was already second-guessing himself about his tour-planning abilities. They had endured weeks of McDonald's bathroom sink showers and wet wipes before and they could do it again, it just sucked. Filth was punk and all but it was also disgusting.   
All of a sudden, the brake lights of the RV lit up almost blindingly red and Keating slammed on his own brakes reactively. Pitts was able to brace himself in time, but the other boys were all thrown forward, Cameron and Todd hitting the seat in front of them, Meeks hitting the dashboard rather violently.   
"The fuck?" asked Cameron groggily as he rubbed at the imprint of the fabric interior on his forehead. Meeks had bitten his tongue on impact and said thickly, "Whah the fahk?" while Todd just looked confused. The RV quickly started moving forward again and pulled over onto a shoulder, with the van following close behind. They saw the door to the RV open and a very pale Knox run out, with a unpleasant orange stain on his shirt, and immediately start vomiting over the guardrail. Keating put the van in park, and hopped out to see if Knox was okay. Meeks and Todd followed suit, with Pitts bringing up the rear, while Cameron tried to wake up and get his bearings. The RV had also emptied out. Chris and Ginny approached with Neil in tow, all of them looking very concerned and a little peeved.   
"What's up with him?" Meeks asked Chris, who watched Knox continue to upchuck the contents of his stomach into the underbrush with a look of mild irritation and pity.   
"He has a sensitive stomach, he's always getting carsick and we didn't think about this until we were already on the road. We ran out of barf bags, and Charlie had clogged the toilet before we actually started driving." Knox gave another rattling gag and Todd started to feel pretty nauseous himself. Within the next 30 seconds, he joined Knox leaning over the guardrail and puking his guts out into the underbrush. His band all groaned in unison, Keating clucking his tongue sympathetically and Meeks putting in head in his hands. "Jesus fucking Christ." He looked over to girls and Neil and noticed something missing. "Where's the other one? Your guitarist?" He asked disdainfully.

 

Meeks avoided using Charlie's name because he didn't want them to think he had taken the time to commit to memory that his name was Charlie or that he had these startling hazel eyes and very nice hands or that he had noticed he had a tiny chip in one of his front teeth, presumably from a fight, and that it made Meeks's stomach do a tiny flip every time he grinned in that stupid and infuriatingly confident way in which he did literally everything else. Neil and Ginny looked at each other and started giggling and Chris's mouth turned up into a smug smile. "Charlie happened to be in the line of fire and from what I can gather is probably scraping chunks of undigested pita out of his hair."   
Pitts and Cameron both snorted a laugh, and Todd, who had taken a break from vomiting and was leaning against the guardrail with shaky knees, even managed a small bark of laughter. As if on cue, Charlie emerged from the RV, with wet but clean hair and a completely different outfit than the one he had performed in. Meeks choked a little bit when Charlie ran a hand through his wet hair but played it off like he was laughing at him, and Charlie gave him a particularly savage glare.   
"You about finished, stud?" Charlie addressed Knox, who was still doubled over the railing but who had been dry heaving for the past little bit, and Knox gave him a weak thumbs up without turning around. "Awesome, let's go. That whole massive upchuck will probably last him until we get into the city."  
"Charlie's probably right," concurred Chris, beginning to corral her little ducklings back to the RV, "He'll be fine until we get to the hotel."   
"Hotel?" repeated Pitts a little mournfully to himself as Chris surged forward to guide Knox gently back to the RV. Neil went and gave Todd a hand up that he held on to longer than necessary and his and Neil's eyes met for a brief moment before Todd turned a bright red and scurried back to the van as quickly as his weak little legs could carry him. Neil smiled softly to himself and turned to follow Chris and the crew back into the RV. 

 

Nuwanda had already set off by the time Leaves piled back into the van. Todd had favored the backseat this time, sitting with Cameron and trying not to hyperventilate. Cameron looked at him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to draw attention to the fact that Todd was freaking out. He kicked the back of Pitts's seat, who was sitting between Meeks and Keating up front. Pitts turned around curiously, "What?" Cameron nodded toward Todd, who was staring fixedly out the window, still breathing erratically.   
"Hey, Todd. You cool?" Todd jerked at the question and looked wildly at his bandmates, who were all watching him with concern. Todd swallowed. "Yeah, I'm good, I'm cool. Couldn't be cooler." His voice cracked and Cameron tried not to laugh, but he quickly regained his composure after he caught sight of Meeks's and Pitts's dual glare. They drove in relative silence for the rest of the trip, the only sound came from Keating humming along to Barry Manilow on the radio.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Todd's hand felt like it was burning where Neil had touched it and he flexed it to make sure it still had feeling and it wasn't just the pins and needle of a limb falling asleep. His heart felt like it was banging like some wild thing in his chest and he felt bile rise in his throat when he thought about Neil's eyes and his smile and this was not good. This was decidedly not good and Todd tried to steer his thoughts to things he felt indifferent toward, Cameron snoring or Meeks picking his teeth with his fingernails instead of a toothpick or Keating spouting Shakespeare with no adequate reason. He was able to control his breathing and stop sounding like a middle-aged woman about to give birth and his hands that he had been squeezing in between his thighs finally stopped shaking. He made a valiant effort to focus on Barry Manilow singing about Mandy. He met Keating's eyes in the rearview mirror, being as everyone else's eyes seemed to be actively avoiding his, and Keating gave him a comforting smile that Todd eagerly returned. Pitts felt the shift and turned to give Todd a wink, and Meeks copied Pitts. Cameron had fallen asleep again and was snoring at a semi-obnoxious volume. 

 

Neil lay on his back on the couch in the RV, staring dreamily at the ceiling at nothing in particular. Knox had taken the small bedroom in the back and lay groaning occasionally, as Chris and Ginny bickered in the driver and passenger seats, and Charlie watched Neil stare from the little dining table, his Playboy Shakespeare abandoned. "You feeling alright?" Charlie asked quietly.  
"I have never felt better." Neil sighed, his eyes starry and far away, a faint dreamy smile on his lips. Realization hit Charlie like a freight train and he let his head flop onto the table, on top of his folded arms. "Oh my fucking god, Neil," Charlie's voice was muffled by his arms and he lifted his head up to look at his best friend sternly.   
"Please for the love of all things sacred in the shit world tell me that you didn't do that thing were you fall madly in love with someone you just met, and then you latch on and become obsessed with them and build them up in your head until they're almost completely unrecognizable and then you get your heart broken because you're in love with an idea, not a person, and they can never live up to your expectation of them."   
"That's an impressive analysis, Charlie," said Knox from the back, "Did you read The Great Gatsby in one sitting again?"  
"Shut up, Knoxious!" yelled Charlie harshly, blushing for only second because Charles Dalton does not blush, not in front of anyone. Fitzgerald wasn't punk and he had to remember to make a better effort at hiding his non-punk activities.   
He turned his attention back to Neil. "As I was saying, you're doing it again."  
"Yeah, maybe," came Neil's reply, still sounding not all there, and Charlie rolled his eyes thinking about all the cliche love songs Neil would write and then demand they do some sort of acoustic set where he can sing all of them and make a fool out of himself. "It's the quiet one, isn't it? The mousy one."  
"His name's Todd," called Ginny from the front.   
"Seems I'm getting information from both ends on this," said Charlie sardonically, flashing Ginny a big smile which she met with her middle finger. 

 

________________________________________________________________________________

 

"This venue is exactly what I expected." said Cameron as they began hauling equipment out of the trailer. It was some hole-in-the-wall bar between a Wiccan book store and a shop that sold Handcrafted Artisanal Popcorn. Meeks scoffed at the latter, "The fucking probing fingers of capitalism know no bounds. The masses will buy anything you throw at them." Pitts rolled his eyes.  
"I would agree with you usually, comrade, but let's haul shit now, talk shit later."  
"Don't you find it ironic that we openly oppose communism but call each other comrade?"  
"Thank you for that, Dick, but the Russians did not invent the word 'comrade'."  
"Communism and Russia aren't synonymous, jackass."  
"We're living in Cold War America, they're synonymous."  
"Can we save the politics for the stage for now, please?" asked Todd, straining to lift an amp by himself.   
The boys snapped out of their debate and gave Todd a hand. Nuwanda had already begun loading their gear before the boys arrived, and they caught sight of Ginny carrying Charlie's guitars into the stage door, which she graciously held for them when she saw them coming.   
"I will never understand," huffed Cameron as he lugged an amp, "why concert spaces insist on having ramps instead of stairs."   
"Well, you see, Cameron, a smarter band might have dollies or you know...some sort of way to push their equipment instead of carrying or dragging it like barbarians." Meeks said, as he dropped the amp he was carrying to catch his breath for a moment.  
"Simple machines? Sounds like a capitalist idea," deadpanned Pitts, which earned him a punch in the shoulder from Meeks. Ginny grinned. "He got you with that one, Steven."  
Meeks looked outraged. "I'm wounded, Ginny. I thought my principles as an anarchist were respected here."  
Ginny rolled her eyes, and gestured with her arms full toward the door. "We have a soundcheck to do, boys."  
They all reloaded and hurried as much as they could through the door, with a pouty Meeks bringing up the rear. Todd was the first inside and let the amp drop to the floor. It almost brought him with it, and Todd staggered to regain his balance. He felt a hand on his back, helping steady him, and he whirled around to see Neil, eyes glowing. "Do you need any help with that?" Neil chuckled and nodded toward the amp.   
Todd shook his head and tried to think of his breathing, his chakra and all that weird shit Meeks was always going on about and how to refocus it. 

 

"Are you sure? You seem a little unsteady on your feet."  
"Yeah, because you're talking to me." It came out a little meaner than Todd thought it would, and he blanched for once instead of blushing but Neil just laughed and moved in a little closer. "You have great eyes. I've always been a sucker for blue, you know?"  
Todd bolted and seeing Meeks, grabbed him by the shirt and dragged them into the single stall bathroom locking the door behind them.  
He turned to a bewildered and expectant Meeks. "I don't know what to do." Todd declared, panicky and breathless and very squeaky.   
"You could elaborate, for starters."  
"Neil. Touched me. Complimented my eyes. Hit on me?"  
"You could also construct coherent sentences."  
"You know what I mean!" Todd yelled hysterically, looking like he was about to burst into frustrated tears.   
"Okay, okay. I digress. Just relax. Calm down. You have the hots for him, that much is obvious. Just try to enjoy the attention for a little bit. It might be good for you. Build up your confidence a bit."  
Todd nodded absently. "Yeah, okay. Alright."  
"Alright?"  
"Alright."  
Meeks turned the sink on and cleaned his glasses quickly, giving Todd a moment to collect himself. He finished up and gestured towards the door, which Todd unlocked and opened, revealing Charlie and Knox leaning against the doorframe.   
"Todd!" They greeted him in unison, clapping him on opposite shoulders and smiling what Todd thought were very predatory smiles. 

 

"Let's walk, let's talk." Knox wheeled Todd around and squeezed him between him and Charlie. Meeks jumped into action. "Oh no, no, no! You're not going to bully him into saying shit, you fucking assholes!" He kept up with their stride with some difficulty, being as they did have some height on him, but he was determined to make sure they didn't fuck with Todd.  
"What are you, his lawyer?" Charlie asked snidely, and Knox shot him a warning look. "Anyway. Todd. Tell us about yourself." Knox redirected, trying to shake Meeks off of their trio.   
"Um...I'm Todd. I'm from Wilmington, Delaware. Uh. I'm a Cancer."  
"You have cancer?!" Knox was mortified.  
"No, shit-for-brains, he IS a Cancer, like the star sign." Meeks interjected, now managing to keep up with them relatively easily.   
"What's your sign, carrot top? Aries?" asked Charlie with a smug grin.  
"I'm a Capricorn, actually."   
"Makes sense, you do have the sense of humor of a goat."  
"Okay, listen, you piece of shit smug arrogant imperialist motherfucker!"  
Knox and Todd had stopped walking and were watching Charlie and Meeks stand nose-to-nose, staring each other down. "I'm sick of your fucking attitude."  
"I'm sick of your fucking attitude!" Charlie retorted.   
Normally, Knox would have stepped forward to separate the two, but Charlie had been grinding his gears for the last couple of hours and he wasn't exactly uninterested in seeing Charlie get his ass beat.   
"Do you think Meeks would win in a fight?" he whispered to Todd, who shook his head sadly.  
"I mean. He might. He's pacifist, so I've never seen his fight."  
"Isn't that contradictory to the whole anarchism thing?"  
"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know."  
"Tell you what." This is Charlie who said this, standing very close to Meeks and trying not to look at his lips too much. "After the show, if you're still feeling frisky, we'll settle this. If I win, you back off and shut your fucking mouth and vice versa."  
"Fine." Meeks spat the word out like it was poison in his mouth and he shoulder-checked Charlie hard as he stormed off.   
"Chris is gonna be pissed about this," Knox muttered.   
"So are Pitts and Cameron."   
Knox and Todd exchanged a look. They separated to find their respective groups and inform them of the newly scheduled post-show main event. 

 

"Meeks vs. Dalton?" Chris said incredulously and barked a laugh. "Listen, I understand that you're virile, aggressive young men all hyped up on adrenaline and excreting testosterone by the buckets but for Christ's sake, can you stop trying to kick the shit out of each other constantly?" She paused for a moment.  
"Having said that, I want to put $20 on Meeks."   
"I'll second that!" agreed Neil.  
Knox shook his head, "I don't know about that. Todd said Meeks is a pacifist, he's never seen him fight."  
"You talked to Todd?" Neil inquired eagerly. Knox ignored him.   
"I'm standing by my wager." said Chris primly, turning back to the soundboard.   
The door to the sound booth crashed open and Charlie strode through, breathing heavy and obviously seeing red. They regarded him warily.   
"And how are you, Charles?" Chris asked, one eyebrow raised.   
"Keen." He gave a nasty smile, and turned to Knox. "Can you believe that fucking twerp? Telling me I have a fucking attitude?"  
"I mean. You do have an attitude. It's kind of your thing."  
"I have confidence, it's way different than having a quote unquote, 'fucking attitude'."  
"Whatever you say, Charles." Chris went back to fiddling with the soundboard and didn't pay Charlie any more mind.   
"Maybe his newly found vigor with make his guitar playing better," Ginny quipped from where she was playing solitaire in the corner.   
"Didn't ask for your fucking opinion, Danbury."  
"Watch your fucking mouth." Chris's eyes were blazing and Charlie, contrary to popular belief, did know to quit while he was ahead. "I sincerely apologize, Virginia. I would never want to offend your delicate sensibilities."  
"Fuck off!" Ginny rose swiftly and exited, pushing past Charlie on her way out. 

 

"So Meeks....Steven Meeks, our friend and frontman...is going to fight Charlie Dalton, Nuwanda guitarist and resident giant prick?" Pitts adjusted his cymbals and looked at Todd with eyebrows raised in surprise.   
"Evidently. Do you think he could win?"  
"I have the utmost faith in him." Todd nodded and continued tuning his bass. He hadn't seen Meeks since he had stormed off earlier and it worried him. He had seen Meeks lose his temper before but never physically, never with the intention to harm someone else as a result.   
"You shouldn't worry." said Pitts, practically reading Todd's mind. "I think this is more sexual frustration than it is any genuine anger on Meeks's part."  
The statement shocked Todd and he looked at Pitts in interest. "What do you mean?"  
Pitts smiled a clandestine smile. "I've known Steven a little longer that you, brother. He likes witticisms, he likes confidence, he likes aggression, he's drawn to it. And despite the fact that our Mr. Dalton is a huge douchebag, he is aggressive, snarky, and very confident. Even if that confidence is a tad on the superficial side."  
"You think Charlie's confidence is skin-deep?"  
"You should observe more, Todd. You're the quiet one, it's almost expected of you." Pitts twirled his sticks and smashed his cymbals while pounding on the bass pedal with his foot. 

 

Cameron stalked onto the stage, guitar in hand and a sour look on his face. "Did you know Meeks is fighting Asshole McFuckface?"  
"Man, what a nickname. You're a visionary, Dick, really."  
"Shut the fuck up, Pitts. How many of us are going to have to fight this guy before Keating figures out that this tour with this particular band might not have been the best idea?"   
"Maybe this will be the ultimate showdown. Maybe just Meeks has to kick his ass. I think that after this, Charlie Dalton isn't going to an issue for anyone anymore."  
"Why?" asked Cameron inquisitively, not being able to imagine a future without Charlie being endlessly annoying.   
"Just trust me," Pitts assured, "This is going to solve a lot of problems."   
"Such as?"  
"Meeks is going to stop being so anal retentive, he's going to stop harping on us about our dietary habits, and he's all around going to be a more mellow and pleasant young man than the one we currently know and love."  
"Why would you think so?"  
"Because Meeks, for the first time in a long time, is going to be getting fucked on the regular." Cameron choked a little bit at Pitts's matter-of-fact phrasing and Todd snickered quietly at his gobsmacked expression.   
"That's what you think this is about?!"  
"Dick, what else is it going to be about? You could cut the sexual tension between those two with a knife."  
"I had no idea Meeks was gay." Cameron said in a daze, still trying to process the fact that Meeks would be getting some and he wouldn't be.   
"Of course you didn't, Cameron, you're about as observant as a brick wall. You and Todd should form a coalition." 

 

Meeks didn't show up for soundcheck, but everyone knew he'd be there for the show. He was just cooling off so he didn't just dive into the pit and start swinging in the middle of the set. He had smoked his way through half a pack of cigarettes before Neil poked his head through the door leading to the alleyway behind the bar. "Hey," he greeted, and came out to join him. Their breath was clearly visible in the chilly Oregon air and Neil had shrugged on a barn coat.   
Meeks chuckled to himself. "Is that L.L. Bean?"  
Neil immediately regretted this decision. "What's it to you? What I'm wearing isn't going to matter when you wail on Charlie later."  
Meeks smiled. "You really think I'll win?"  
"You've got a total of $70 riding on you, you better win."  
"Ah, so you can out here to threaten me."  
Neil laughed, "No, not at all. You know, Charlie isn't that bad. He just...has a very theatrical persona that he dedicates himself to most of the time. I do think this fight will do him good, though."  
"You and me both. Wanna smoke?"

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

This crowd wasn't as rowdy as their inaugural show, but they were excitable and they thrashed along and the pit seemed lively enough. Leaves of Grass was given another great reception, and of course Nuwanda killed, and the show passed by relatively quickly compared to the whirlwind of their first night. Nuwanda was wrapping up their set and Cameron was helping Meeks wrap his knuckles.  
"So what does this do again?"  
"Keeps your bones from shifting when you fight." Meeks made a face but allowed Cameron to finish and tie it up.   
"Hey Todd," called Pitts from where they were posted near the back of the venue, "Do you think we should get pompoms? So we can really cheer our champion forward to victory?"  
"Fuck off." Pitts smiled and pushed Meeks's shoulder affectionately.   
"You'll do fine, dude. Just remember to keep your hands up."  
"He bleeds easily," added Cameron, "Just go straight for his nose and you'll have him distracted."   
"That's actually good advice, Cameron, thank you." Cameron smiled and patted his shoulder. "You wanna take off your glasses?"  
"God, yes. The last thing I need is broken glasses." He gave them to Todd for safekeeping and sat in wait with his bandmates. Nuwanda ended their set to rapturous applause. "Thank you, Portland! Good night!" Neil shouted into the mic. Charlie threw the remainders of his beer into the audience and Knox winked at a group of girls near the barricade. Once backstage, Charlie deposited his guitar to Ginny and cracked his neck and knuckles. He headed out towards the bar. 

 

Meeks saw a vague blurry figure with brown hair approach the bar. Judging by his height and swagger, he knew it was Charlie and immediately sprang up, without hearing any of the protestations of his friends. He walked up to where Charlie was standing at the bar and swung. A soft crunch alerted him to the fact that he had got him right in the upper cheek, nearer to his eye. "Take that, prick!" said Meeks excitedly, exhilarated at getting in the first punch.   
"What the fuck, man?" Charlie said in a voice that was definitely too deep to be Charlie's, and Meeks was in the middle of wondering how the fuck he managed to get his voice to sound like that when he was completely floored by a gut-wrenching, knockout punch. He hit the ground like a ton of bricks and his bandmates moved quickly to collect him off the concrete floor. Todd was sputtering apologies to the man at the bar, who was much bigger than him while the real Charlie, who had been making his way over to Meeks when he decided Bar Man was his intended opponent, was busy laughing his ass off. Tears were streaming down his face and he was having serious trouble getting air in and out. His stomach ached but he could not stop laughing and he was gripping the edge of a random table in an attempt to keep himself upright.

 

Neil had joined him in crying-laughing at Meek's unfortunate case of mistaken identity while the girls went to make sure Meeks was ok. Knox had preoccupied himself with one of the girls at the barricade and they were busy dirtying up a bathroom stall, a fact that Charlie would definitely tease him about later on that night. Pitts and Cameron were trying not to laugh at the fact that Meeks's nearsightedness had led him to get knocked the fuck out at a dive bar while Todd was genuinely worried he'd sustained some massive internal brain hemorrhage they couldn't see. Keating fetched some water from behind the bar and splashed Meeks, smacking his cheek firmly in an attempt to rouse him. It worked.  
He looked around blearily. "Hello?" he questioned in a surprisingly steady voice, and Pitts and Cameron burst into laughter, unable to contain themselves. Todd looked more relieved than anything else, but ended up joining in the laughter, and even Chris and Ginny couldn't help but giggle.   
"That wasn't Charlie, was it?"  
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Meeks." Meeks let his head flop back down onto the floor and tried not to simply die of mortification right there. Taking everyone by surprise, Charlie pushed through the small throng surrounding Meeks and offered him a hand. Meeks took it before he realized what he was doing and Charlie helped him up.   
"We should probably put ice of that black eye. Looks like it's gonna get real nasty pretty soon." said Charlie, remembering to release Meeks's hand before it got weird. "Yeah, okay," Meeks was still a little out of it, so Charlie guided him with a gentle hand on his back to the bar where an employee handed them some ice in a dishtowel, and then outside where Meeks could get some fresh air. 

 

"That was really fucking funny." Charlie said matter-of-factly, having gotten all his giggles out with Neil just minutes before. Meeks blushed in embarrassment and pointedly didn't look at Charlie. "Yeah, well. I didn't have my glasses on, I got confused." Meeks touched his face. "I still don't have them, Todd does."  
He went to re-enter the bar but Charlie stopped him. "You look good without glasses. Have you ever thought about contacts?" Meeks looked at him with bug eyes, not believing what he was hearing.   
"Are you saying my glasses make me look like shit?" Meeks asked heatedly, assuming that Charlie was insulting him. Charlie laughed.  
"No. You look good with and without your glasses. But if you're planning on getting into more fights, contacts would probably be a good idea, so you know, you could see who you're fighting and not have to worry about your means of vision snapping in half." Meeks flushed.  
"You have a great smile, when you're not being a fucking prick." Charlie smiled at the compliment and Meeks's body moved faster than his mind and he quickly pressed Charlie's lips to his. The kiss was salty from the sweat of the show and sickly sweet from the metallic taste of blood from Meeks's bitten tongue. Charlie's hands moved to cup the sides of Meeks's face. Meeks's hands roamed the expanse of Charlie's chest and settled on his hips, pulling Charlie closer to him. Charlie's tongue was in his mouth and Meeks's tongue was in Charlie's mouth and they were both getting dizzy but were much too stubborn to admit it.   
"Hey," Ginny poked her head out of the door and caused to two of them to jump apart. "When you two are done playing tonsil hockey, we need help loading the gear." She disappeared, leaving the two of them staring at each other in the wintry night air of Portland in an alley behind a dive bar, both stinking of sweat and dollar store deodorant. Meeks left first, his face an impenetrable mask. Charlie followed shortly after, not wanting to lose sight of him.

 

They loaded with their bands in silence, conscious of all of them watching the two of them curiously. They made sure they stood very far away from each other. Knox nudged Charlie's shoulder as they threw the last pieces of equipment into the undercarriage of the RV. "Having fun, stud?"   
Charlie could have knocked his fucking lights out, and Knox knew, because he high-tailed it out of there and onto the bus before Charlie could lash out. He looked over and saw Meeks sharing a cigarette with Pitts. Meeks was looked pointedly at the ground and not at him. Pitts met his eyes and winked. He got up and went into their van, leaving Meeks alone of the curb. Charlie sat down next to him quickly, before he lost his nerve. "Spare a drag for a dying man?" Charlie said, giving him a small smile. Meeks passed the cigarette to him without looking at him. "You're an okay kisser, if you were wondering." Charlie was trying his damnedest to act nonchalant.  
Meeks turned to him and looked at him dead in the eyes. He remained silent. He seemed to be looking for something in the hazel reflection, but finding nothing, turned away. Charlie tried to act like he wasn't hurt, like this didn't feel like rejection. He pressed a kiss behind Meeks's ear and Meeks jerked away, stiff as a board. "Good night." muttered Charlie miserably, and he started toward the RV. Meeks stamped out the cigarette and piled into the very back of the van next to Todd. Todd didn't ask him any questions but just gave him a reassuring smile as Keating cranked the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> robert sean leonard circa 1993 can insert his dick into me as far as it will possibly go


	5. punks go find an almond joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD ok so this took me a LONG time. this was initially going to be a Charlie And Meeks #CHEEKS chapter but i got a little carried away and our anderperry boys. they Called to me. gonna give a big ole shout out to pusha t for fueling this chapter with his visionary hit single "numbers on the board" and another big shout out to finals week for making me contemplate suicide once again. where would i be without u, massive crushing weight of academic achievement? ANYWAY pls enjoy the chapter and know feedback is ALWAYS welcome as is constructive criticism. shit the criticism doesn't even have to be constructive, u can just roast me if u want

Charlie lay on the bed in the hotel room, trying not to be too obviously upset. He and Neil were sharing a room and Neil watched him from the armchair in the corner. He was reading Charlie's Shakespeare omnibus, sans Playboy.  
"We spend a lot of time watching each other stare at ceilings, don't we?" Charlie said this without much feeling. Neil smirked and laughed quietly to himself.  
"Yeah, we really do. What's up? Moping isn't really your thing."  
"I kissed him and now he hates me even more than he did."  
"I really doubt he hates you, Charlie. I think you just surprised him. See, if it walks like an asshole and talks like an asshole, people start assuming it's an asshole."  
"Assuming I'm the 'it' in the this situation?"  
Neil chuckled. "Yes, you're the 'it'. Punk rock's it-boy, Charlie Dalton, wicked guitarist, sex incarnate, Nuwanda himself!"  
Charlie cracked a smile at that, eyes still trained above. "I surprised him, huh?"  
"You did. You make plans to kick his ass, then you stick your tongue in his mouth. That does constitute as a serious mixed signal."  
"He initiated it! All I said was that he should get contacts, and then he's all over me. He got me all spun up and then completely shut down, blew me off."  
"Oh, woe is you," Neil rolled his eyes, "Just give him time. He'll come around. He likes you, I can tell. And you're a total catch! You just gotta let him reach his own conclusions, yeah? Don't fuck with his emotions." 

"What do you mean you know I kissed him?" Meeks all but yelled at Pitts and Todd, who were looking at him sympathetically from the other side of the booth. "You looked like you had just been hit by a train," Pitts said through a mouth full of hash browns.  
"It was pretty obvious." added Todd, putting too much half-and-half in his coffee.  
"I don't know what to do."  
"Enjoy it, maybe the attention will help your self-confidence a little." Meeks was one-part impressed, being as Todd wasn't snarky very often, and two-parts pissed, being as Todd was actively making fun of him.  
"Fuck off, Anderson! At least I don't blush and get weak at the knees like a 12-year-old every time he's in the same room as me." Todd was stung and went to work putting too much sugar in his coffee to make himself feel better.  
"Now, Steven. Making fun of Todd isn't going to change the fact that you're dealing with a lot of complex emotions. I suggest you go find him and the two of you," Pitts raised his eyebrows suggestively, "...reconcile."  
Meeks gawked at the implication. "No," he said slowly, "I will not be doing that."  
"It'll be good for you. You're a little repressed anyway, having someone like Charlie around will definitely take the edge off this tour for you."  
"I don't need sex to 'take the edge off'," Meeks put air quotations around the latter, "I'm not some 15-year-old who constantly has his hands down his pants."  
"Dude, a sex drive is totally healthy, and you shouldn't be ashamed of fucking someone, especially when that person wants you just as badly."  
"I didn't tell you this so you could try to sucker me into a therapy session, Gerard." Meeks's face had gone stony and his elbows were pressed hard against the vinyl of the table top. "Just because the only romantic relationship you're capable of having with someone is the kind that only lasts until you cum doesn't mean that's the kind I want." Now it was Pitts's face that went stony and he roughly shoved out of his seat and went outside, yanking the glass door of the diner open with enough force to rattle the windowpanes.  
"That wasn't necessary, Meeks." Todd said calmly, and Meeks saw red.  
"You know what really isn't fucking necessary? You all trying to tell me how to live my fucking life."  
Todd looked at him in disbelief. "You asked us for advice. You came to us and told us about what happened." Meeks wasn't willing to listen to anything Todd had to say and also jerked out of the booth, and went outside to clear his head, conscious to use the opposite door from the one Pitts had used on the other side of the building. 

Meeks puffed angrily on a cigarette and didn't see Knox and Ginny walking up the street until they were right next to him. "Steven!" greeted Ginny, waving at him.  
"Hey man, what's up?" Knox clapped him on the back.  
"Hey." he returned their greeting weakly. "Are cigarettes vegan? Can you smoke those?"  
"Don't know." Meeks grumbled, not too keen on having any kind of conversation at that moment. Knox and Ginny picked up on the vibe, and went to enter the diner.  
"If you and your guys want to hang any tonight," Knox offered, "we're staying at the inn a block down the street. Rooms 346, 348, and 351. Neil and Charlie got the odd one out." He smiled at Meeks warmly, and retreated into the yellow fluorescent light of the diner. Meeks finished his cigarette and lit another hastily, making his way down the street the direction Knox and Ginny had come from. 

___________________________________________________________________________

The inn didn't look the way he expected it to. He was picturing more of a stereotypical hotel, not an actual multi-storied house, but the sign assured him that this was the place and that Comfort Is Their Number One Specialty. He entered and went up to what he presumed was the front desk. There was a woman already being helped in front of him so he stood and huffed before realizing he had walked in with a lit cigarette and went to extinguish it in a potted plant before anyone noticed.  
"Meeks?" He jumped at hearing his name and turned to see Neil standing in front of a bay of vending machines.  
"What's up, man?" Meeks attempted to sound as nonchalant and relaxed as possible. Neil raised an eyebrow. "Nothing much. Trying to rustle up some provisions," he gestured to the vending machines. "Charlie and I are sharing a room and fucking Knox gets one to himself, can you believe that? Chris is trying to justify it by saying he has more "late night visitors" but it's definitely just because Chris likes him more."  
"Oh, you're sharing a room?" He vaguely remembered Knox mentioning it but hadn't really thought about it until just then.  
"Yeah, but I'll probably be down here deciding on snacks for a pretty long while. Lots of options, you know." He gave Meeks a very meaningful look and handed him a room key. "Room 351." He winked and nodded toward the elevator. Meeks tried to sputter out an explanation, an excuse, anything but nothing could dim the mischievous and knowing look in Neil's eye and eventually he gave up and hurried to the elevator. He stepped on and the doors closed behind him, and he was faced with his own reflection in the shiny metal. His face was splotchy and pink, and it was obvious that he was nervous and fidgety. He wished he had worn a different shirt, a tighter one that made his arms look more muscular and that his leather jacket was a little more tailored and not so boxy. He tugged on his earring, a nervous habit, as the elevator dinged and opened to the third floor. 

A little sign on the wall said "320-365" with an arrow pointing right and Meeks's feet were moving before he was entirely conscious of it. The rooms began to blur by as Meeks walked faster and faster. He was so intent on getting there as quickly as possible he actually passed by 351 and had to go back. While he still had nerve, he slide the key in the lock and walked in, slamming the door behind him.  
It was just a standard hotel room with two full beds, with a TV, phone, and armchair in the corner. The lamp on the nightstand was the only light that was on and created a nice, soft atmosphere in the room. "Neil, did you remember my Almond Joy?" Charlie's voice came from behind the bathroom door and Meeks jumped, not saying a word. "Neil? The Almond Joy?" said Charlie a little louder.  
The toilet flushed and Meeks heard the sound of a faucet running, Charlie washing his hands. He didn't know whether to remain standing or sit down on the bed or run and leave the room altogether. Before Meeks could decide what to do, the bathroom door opened and there was Charlie. He looked at Meeks in shock as Meeks tried to string together words like a functioning human being. "Neil...gave me the key. I just, uh. I let myself in. I wanted to...to talk to you."  
Meeks was gripping the key in his hand so tightly he could feel his knuckles going white, almost in the same way that he felt his face pale at the realization of just where exactly he was and who exactly he was with.  
"What's there to talk about?" asked Charlie quietly. It seemed to Meeks that he was much more subdued here, looking a little smaller than he looked most of the time.  
"I didn't mean to offend you," Meeks shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, "I just. I hadn't planned on that happening and I hate when things don't go according to plan." Charlie smiled at that.  
"Really? Well that would explain quite a lot."  
Meeks returned the smile and looked at his feet sheepishly. "You're really hot, you know," he almost-whispered, almost as if he didn't want Charlie to hear at all, "You just, look great all the time. Like Adonis or something. I'm sorry if I come off really aloof. I just...haven't been interested in someone in a long time." He looked at everything in the room but Charlie, not wanting to make eye contact and get his heart broken. Charlie stepped forward and took Meeks's hands in his own, surprising him. He took the key from Meeks's hand and threw it on the nightstand. He took Meeks's glasses off and set them gently on the nightstand as well.

Meeks knew he was trembling but decided that if he ignored it, Charlie wouldn't notice. Charlie took Meeks's hands and put them around his neck, subtly drawing the two closer together and Meeks felt his heart stutter. "Are you shaking?" Charlie asked amusedly. He swallowed thickly, very obvious staring at Charlie's mouth. Charlie gave him a cocky shit-eating grin and Meeks thought he was going to melt into the carpet.  
Charlie leaned into his ear and touched the shell with his tongue light as air and Meeks practically choked. "Can I kiss you?" His breath was too hot against his skin and Meeks couldn't get the affirmative out fast enough. Charlie crashed their lips together a little gruffer than Meeks would have normally liked but he couldn't really think of anything that wasn't Charlie's tongue sliding along the roof of his mouth. Charlie's long cold fingers had found their way under his shirt and they ran up his chest, making him shiver at the difference in temperature.  
Meeks broke away, a string of saliva going from his mouth to Charlie's, and he gulped raggedly, going his best to not act like he was lightheaded and hard from a kiss, like some teenager. "You're so fucking hot, God," said Charlie breathlessly and he pushed his jacket off his shoulders and began to take off his shirt.  
"My name's Steven, you know, not God." Meeks cracked a smile and Charlie rolled his eyes.  
"That's weak," he said, biting Meek's neck hard, causing him to yelp, before soothing it with his tongue. 

Meeks's shaky hands rucked Charlie's shirt up his chest and he disengaged from Meeks's neck briefly with a smirk, allowing him to get his shirt over his head.  
"Jesus Christ, you're like a fucking painting, what the fuck."  
"Yeah, I mean, I work out." Meeks rolled his eyes and went back to kissing him before he could get annoyed at some other dumb comment. His hands rested on either side of the soft skin of Meeks's neck and he began to move them backwards toward the bed. Meeks wasn't anticipating the bed being so close and the bottom of the bed frame hit the back of his knees, making him trip and fall onto the mattress with an undignified "Oomph!"  
Charlie was on top of him in a flash, trying to keep their mouths in constant motion as he unbuttoned and slid his hands down the other boy's pants. He was hard and thick in his palm, and he felt Meeks gasp softly against his mouth as he began to slowly stroke him, smearing pre-cum along the shaft to ease the process.  
The last thing Meeks wanted to do was moan like a girl, but he was making it so hard by touching him like that, by looking at him like that, like he was the sun or some shit. He felt a warmth start to build in the pit of his stomach and he panicked, but before he could tell Charlie to slow down or give him any warning, he came with a grunt onto Charlie's hand. Charlie started shaking with laughter.  
"Oh my fucking god, are you 12?" He said in between big, hearty laughs.  
Steven wanted to drop dead.  
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, this is so fucking embarrassing, oh my god," Meeks babbled as he rose from the bed and collected his shirt and jacket, not looking at Charlie, who was trying to collect himself.  
"Steven. Steven!" He said plaintively as he realized he was about to leave, "It's okay, it's fine! I jacked you off, it makes sense that you would cum, dude, it's not embarrassing, it's like, biological."  
"I should have lasted longer, I am a grown man." Meeks punctuated his statement with a stabbing finger towards his own chest. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly for force them away. He realized his pants were still unbuttoned and falling off his hips and he righted them quickly.  
Charlie watched him silently from the bed, his erection very obvious in his tight skinny jeans. "You're so emotional. We barely did anything and you're freaking out," he said with a mocking edge to his voice that cut Steven deep between his ribs, right to his heart. 

"Fuck you! You don't get to tell me how to feel about this!" He snarled, his face getting progressively redder and blotchier as he became more and more worked up. "This was a mistake." He flung his arm between the two of them, and Charlie's smirking face fell at the realization that Meeks was genuinely angry and not just embarrassed-angry. "It's not a mistake! You can't count us out this early on!" Charlie protested desperately, rising to touch him, embrace him, anything to comfort him and bring him back to bed. Meeks moved hastily to the door before Charlie could touch him, but Charlie was faster and blocked the exit.  
Steven punched him hard in the chest, making him sputter and choke. "I open up to you, I make myself vulnerable, and you fucking make fun of me! You're such a PRICK!" He shoved him out of the way and opened the door.  
"You can't fucking be in control of everything, Meeks! You can't have a fucking iron grip on yourself all the time!" Charlie yelled after him, but he was already halfway down the hall, trying to sort out his hair and clothes so it wasn't obvious what they had been doing. He smashed the elevator button with way more force than necessary, silently stewing, as Charlie collapsed on the bed and tried not to be completely consumed by a wave of self-loathing.

____________________________________________________________________________

Neil had been sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the lobby, waiting for Knox and Ginny to return so he'd have someone to hang out with, assuming Charlie and Meeks's rendezvous lasted a majority of the night. Chris had gone to sort things out with a mechanic, because evidently the RV had been emitting some very suspicious rattling. The elevator dinged open, and Neil saw Meeks storm out, face bright red and expressionless, head held high, staring straight ahead as he walked briskly to the front doors. "God fucking dammit, Charlie," he let this head fall back on top of the headrest of the chair in exasperation and stared angrily at the ceiling of the lobby. He hauled himself up and hurried up to the room, sure he was going to have to sweep Charlie's broken pieces into a dustpan and give it a serious pep talk/verbal asskicking. He went to unlock the door, and remembering he had given Meeks his keys, began pounding on it. "CHARLIE DALTON!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, making sure Charlie could hear him through what Neil could already tell was a haze of rejection and self-hatred. A few moments later, the door opened just a little and Neil pushed it and walked through, just in time to see Charlie fling himself back onto his bed face first.  
"I'm guessing that didn't go too well?" Charlie remained silent and Neil scolded himself for kind of enjoying this. "What did you say?"  
"How do you know it was something I said? He could have been disappointed with my performance or something. Don't jump to conclusions, Neil." Neil looked at him impassively, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.  
"You're fully clothed."  
"Clothes actually do this thing where you can take them off AND put them on, it's pretty incredible."  
"You're laying facedown on the bed."  
"Maybe I caught instead of pitched this round, my ass is sore."  
"You just said 'maybe'."  
"Maybe I don't want you knowing the intimate details of my dick in someone's ass or my ass around someone's dick."  
Neil raised an eyebrow and sat down on his own bed. Charlie turned so he wasn't facing him and a tense hush descended on the room. Neil went back to his Shakespeare and Charlie resumed his heavy sulk. 

"Why can't I keep my big fucking mouth shut?" Charlie broke the silence after a bit, feeling himself sink deeper and deeper into a depression as he listened to the sound of Neil turning pages.  
"It's just not in your nature." Neil said comfortingly, fiddling with a piece of the hotel notepad he had been using as a bookmark. "You should really try to think before you speak, though. The 'no-filter' thing is only endearing sometimes."  
"Like. He's right. I was such a prick about it. I just. I don't know. I thought he had a better sense of humor. I thought he'd think it was funny too."  
"Okay, see, there's your problem." Neil closed his book. "His sense of humor doesn't need to be 'better'. You need to be more sensitive, stop being so up your own ass. What exactly should he have had a better sense of humor about anyway?"  
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "None of your fucking business."  
"You've made it my business, jackass."  
"He just...he came really fast and he was embarrassed about it." Charlie mumbled, not looking at his friend."Do you think I should, like...go talk to him? Apologize?"  
Neil looked at him like he was stupid and let his head thump against the headboard.  
"Yes, dumbass. You should absolutely apologize."  
"Not tonight, though. I don't want him to think I'm crying myself to sleep over him or anything."  
Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to not bash Charlie's skull in himself.  
"Did you ever get that Almond Joy?"  
"No, it slipped my mind."  
Charlie gawked at him. "I'm up here ruining a relationship as well as failing to get laid, and you can't pity me with a candy bar? I can't believe you."  
Neil got up and snatched a key off the nightstand. "Fine, I'll go get your fucking candy bar, you drama queen." Charlie gave him a slow slinky smile and stretched out on the bed, gearing up for a nap, despite the fact it had to be at least 3am.

Todd fidgeted in the lobby, debating on what to do. The night clerk at the desk hadn't noticed him at all, all their attention focused solely on the magazine they were casually flipping through. Knox and Ginny had joined him at the diner after Pitts and Meeks stormed out, and had invited him to come hang out. He felt it was less camaraderie and more guilt over the fact that Leaves was having to sleep in the van that compelled them. He hadn't seen Meeks in hours, and it worried him. They had said they'd extended the invitation to him as well, and had even given him Charlie and Neil's room number, Knox had added with wagging eyebrows.  
He had gone meandering a bit by himself, everything being practically 24 hours here. He hadn't committed their room numbers to memory and he felt very uneasy about telling the night clerk he was here to hang out with a band. He saw a faint glimmer out of the corner of his eye. A bay of vending machines were tucked away next to the elevator and Todd made his way over to have a look-see. He was always a sucker for snack machines, something Meeks lectured him about and something Pitts found inexplicably hilarious.  
The candy machine was a sad, sad sight. No Reese's, no Three Musketeers. All they had loaded were Heath bars and a single, lonely Milky Way. He stooped down and saw salvation. There was a single Almond Joy, hidden toward the back and Todd dug in his pocket for 75 cents before he even knew what he was doing. The Almond Joy plunked into the dispersal tray and Todd snatched it, intending to go to town on some almonds and chocolate-covered coconut.  
He heard the elevator doors open and much to his surprise and dismay, Neil turned the corner. Fluorescent lights did absolutely nothing for anyone else Todd knew, but Neil looked just as mouthwatering as he did in any other lighting, and God it wasn't fair. He was so sure he looked like some hobo, getting ready to scarf down a candy bar while still reeking of show sweat. Neil saw him and immediately gave him a huge smile. Todd stuck his heels in and refused to swoon, which was much easier said than done while looking at Neil's beautiful eyes and his phenomenal smile and those strong arms, those sweet dimples, the HAIR. He continued to smiled wide and sincere as he raked a hand through his bangs to get them out of the way. Todd's heart had jumped up to his throat and he stuffed the second part of the candy in his mouth to further put off embarrassing himself.  
"Hey! I wasn't expecting to see you here. How's your night been?" Neil sounded a little breathless, despite having just gotten out of an elevator, and the first thing Todd's mind leaped to was "Oh my god, was he having sex before this?" which he knew was a totally nonsensical train of thought but that didn't stop him from becoming even more flustered and unwilling to speak. 

 

He ended up just nodding dumbly, hoping he was signifying a good night instead of looking completely idiotic. Neil had begun nodding along with him in jest.  
"That means good, I guess?" He smirked and chuckled lightly. Todd swallowed the chocolate mush he had been holding in his mouth unconsciously and was terrified at the prospect of having to actually respond now that he could. Neil looked at him expectantly.  
"Yeah. It's been cool. Have you seen Meeks? Has he been around?" His voice cracked and he wanted the vending machines to swallow him whole.  
"Yeah, he was here a little bit ago, but he left. No forwarding address." Neil shrugged sheepishly and thankfully turned his attention to the vending machine, brows furrowing after a moment.  
"Fuck!" His forehead thumped against the glass of the machine and he sighed.  
Todd looked at him questioningly, eyebrows raised. "Charlie's had a rough night and all he wanted was an Almond Joy, and there was one left when I was down here like 45 minutes ago."  
Todd stuffed the wrapper into his pocket at the speed of light. "45 minutes is a long time."  
"Very true. Wanna walk to the corner store with me?"  
"Yeah, sure." Todd said after a beat and tried to stop his heart from pounding at the prospect of actually hanging out with Neil one-on-one. Neil disengaged his forehead from the vending machine and smiled at him, nodding towards the door with his head while he walked backwards.  
Todd followed like a puppy, jogging a little to keep up with Neil's long, confident stride. The night was very chilly and they both pulled their jackets more tightly around them, shivering just a bit. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

"I'm going to try to engage you in small talk now. Is that okay with you?" Neil asked sardonically, looking at Todd out of the corner of his eye. Todd huffed a laugh, which manifested as a little cloud of white, and smiled, nodding in approval as he continued to look at his feet.  
"Where are you from?"  
"Wilmington, Delaware. Why does everyone always lead with that?"  
"Why didn't you go to college?"  
"I did. I'm taking some time off to focus on the band."  
Neil raised his eyebrows. "Where'd you go?"  
"U-Dub. I thought my parents would have a heart attack about me going to school across the country but they didn't seem to mind." Todd said a little sadly.  
"What was your major?"  
"English and Creative Writing."  
"Holy shit. I didn't even make it to college."  
"Why didn't you go to college?" Neil paled a little at the question and his mind raced as he tried to come up with something that didn't sound as preppy and pretentious as the truth. "It just...wasn't for me." He cringed inwardly at the half-truth and immediately regretted it.  
"What would you have wanted to major in, if you had the chance?"  
"Uh...I don't know. I've never given it much thought. My dad had always had his heart set on me being a doctor. I've always really loved acting. Maybe drama? Theatre? I don't know what the technical major would be called."  
"What kind of music do you listen to? Outside of punk, I mean." Todd was surprised at the shift in dynamic and the fact that he was the one asking all the questions instead of the other way around.  
"Uh. Honestly? I've always had a thing for Madonna." They both laughed heartily at that, drifting closer to each other in the chill, until their arms brushed.  
"How did you meet the guys? Your guys, I mean."  
"We all came to U-Dub together."  
"From Delaware? Really?"  
"Yeah! We'd always been a group, so we saw no point in splitting up just for college. That, and Cameron's parents wouldn't let him come unless he knew someone, and they couldn't say no if all of us went."  
"Even Keating? You said he had been a teacher of yours." Todd laughed. "Yeah, even Keating! He had actually moved up here a while ago, he had been one of our teachers in middle school. He saw us play a show at some weird hookah bar in Seattle and was like totally floored that it was us! He bought us all beer and asked if we needed a manager." "I mean, I can't say much. Me and the guys all moved to Seattle from Vermont."  
"Heard they have lot of pretty trees there."  
Neil guffawed. "Yeah, and shit else." 

The neon signs of the shops and businesses they passed cast them both in primary colors, and they both desperately tried to act like they weren't stealing glances at each other at every opportunity. In a burst of manic bravery, Todd took his hand out of his pocket, with the intention of sticking it into Neil's pocket to hold his hand. Neil had had a similar idea at the same time and he and his companion's fingers brushed against each other in the frigid Portland night. Todd yanked his hand back like it had been shocked and buried it back in the depths of his pockets, staring straight ahead and not daring to look at the brunet next to him.  
Neil laughed softly and put his hand back in his own pocket, trying not to be disappointed with the distance Todd had put back between them.  
"Did you ever write anything when you were a student?"  
The question caught the bassist offguard and he sputtered for a moment. "I mean. I wrote some poetry, every now and again." His face was already pink from the cold and he thanked God for that.  
"Oh, you're a poet! A true wordsmith."  
"No, definitely not. I hated it, I thought it was garbage. Meeks liked it a lot, he wanted to turn it into a song but I wouldn't let him. It's not really the kind of stuff we sing about anyway."  
"In high school, I got super into transcendentalism and American romanticism and all that happy shit. Like Thoreau, and Whitman. Emerson can choke, he's a fucking square."  
Todd perked up. "I love Whitman! Did you have a favorite poem?"  
"And I sound my barbaric YAWP across the rooftops of the world."  
Neil's eyes sparkled and Todd was mesmerized before he got a grip on himself.  
"What kind of milk do you like?"  
"Skim."  
"What's your favorite cereal?"  
Todd smiled imperceptibly. "I don't have one. What's yours?"  
"Cookie Crisp."  
He smiled and opened the door of the convenient store Todd hadn't noticed was now right in front of them. The whir of the slushie machines and the stale smell of grease were comforting under the dull, flickering fluorescents and they stood indecisively in the candy aisle as the clerk watched some telenovela behind the counter. "I thought we were here for an Almond Joy."  
"We are but I wanted to get something for myself. The hotel's selection was just sad."  
"Do you like chocolate?"  
Neil smirked. "I do, but sometimes I prefer something a little lighter." He grabbed a pack of Skittles and shook them pointedly. The clerk smiled at Todd as they checked out but gave Neil a little glare. He did look the grungier of the two, despite having access to a shower, and he smiled politely through slightly greasy bangs, taking the bag jerkily off the counter. 

________________________________________________________________________________

"Punk prejudice?" Todd offered quietly, when they were back in the throes of neon on the street. The bag rustled as Neil settled it around his wrist, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. He huffed a small laugh. "I guess. I'm still not used to that."  
"What?"  
"People looking at me like that. I used to be very clean-cut, you know. The kind of guy you'd want to take home to Mom and Dad. I'm not used to being 'threatening'."  
"You're not threatening. You're definitely cooler than me, people just think I'm sloppy or homeless. Punk is never the first word that comes to their mind."  
"You don't look sloppy. If anything, homeless chic." He paused.  
"Hey, can you hold this for me?"  
Todd took his hand out of his pocket, reaching for the bag but Neil had switched it to his other wrist and quickly threaded the other boy's fingers through his own, looking straight ahead as if Todd wasn't having a heart attack.  
Todd's breathing was erratic and he felt lightheaded, but Neil's hand in his kept him anchored to the street and the non-existent stars seemed to shine a little brighter. "You're a little clammy." Todd blanched and went to pull his hand away in embarrassment, but Neil tightened his grip. "No worries. I like it." He glowed as Neil squeezed his hand affectionately. 

"TODD! HEY! WHAT'S UP, FUCKER!" They both wheeled around at the slurred shouting from across the street. Outside of what looked like a very bougie yuppie nightclub, sat slumping and happily drunk on the curb with an illegally obtained cosmo in hand, was Meeks. Neil burst into laughter while Todd stared in amazement. "Cosmopolitans aren't very punk, you know!" Neil yelled back at him in between huge gasps for breath. Todd looked both ways quickly before scurrying across.  
"What are you doing here?" He looked at his rumpled clothes in concern and gently took the cosmo from his hand, despite the death grip Meeks had on it, and poured the rest of it out onto the patio.  
"Fucking...having a good time, man. I made out with...fucking someone, I don't know. Where'd the drink go?" He fell back onto the sidewalk and laid there giggling.  
"Oh, this isn't good." Todd tutted, and the two non-drunk boys exchanged a look.  
"Come on, Steven," Neil hauled him up, throwing one of his arms over his shoulders, signaling for Todd to take the other.  
They started down the street, Meeks dragging and tripping over his own feet while his friends struggled to keep him upright. "I'm surprised Charlie isn't the one that went on a bender." Neil mumbled to himself.  
"FUCK CHARLIE!" Todd startled at Meeks's volume and the venom in his voice that was in no way masked by the giddiness of the alcohol.  
"You know, Meeks..."  
"Don't try to fucking defend him, Neil! I won't listen to it! He knew what he said was hurtful and uncalled for, and the only reason he said was to reassert some sort of power over me that he somehow felt he had lost!"  
"How can you be so drunk and so eloquent?"  
Meeks vomited just an inch shy of Neil's shoes. They stopped to let him finish, Todd rubbing his back and holding his glasses so they didn't slip off his nose. 

After nearly 45 minutes of drunken rants punctuated by soupy bouts of upchucked bile, they finally returned to the hotel. "Let's fucking hope Knox isn't fucking anyone, I really don't want to see that," Neil said, as they hauled Meeks into the elevator. They managed to get to Knox's room, Neil letting go of his drunk companion to pound of the door. Meeks fell back, taking Todd with him, and they landed on the hard commercial carpet of the hallway with a simultaneous strangled, surprised grunt.  
Knox opened the door groggily and thankfully clothed. He took in Neil, and then the two in the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"Bring him in."  
Meeks collapsed on Knox's bed and giggled as the three stood in a circle directly above him and looked down, trying to decide how to proceed.  
"I say he stays here."  
"I second that."  
"Neil, why can't he stay with you and Charlie?"  
"You have an entire separate bed that you're not using!"  
"Ok, but what if I start using it over the course of the night?"  
"You're capable of having sex in two beds at once? Knox Overstreet, you absolute legend."  
"Shut up! Ok, ok, fine, keep him here. If he throws up, I'm not cleaning it."  
Todd placed the small trashcan from the bathroom next to the bed and helped his friend out of his jacket and put his filthy glasses on the nightstand. Knox shut the door a little harder than necessary as Todd and Neil exited and started toward Neil's room.  
"He was a mess." Todd stated quietly, unconsciously walking shoulder to shoulder with Neil.  
"Yeah, well. He and Charlie were both pretty broken up about how their little rendezvous went."  
"There was a rendezvous?"  
"Yeah. Charlie embarrassed Meeks and himself, and now they're both upset because Charlie is a child. If he, oh, I don't know, APOLOGIZED to him, I'm sure they'd be getting hot and heavy right now and saved us both a lot of melodrama and vomit."  
They stopped outside the room. The hallway was empty and the two of them stood, facing each other. It was like all the sound had been sucked out of the hall and Todd felt his tongue become heavy in his mouth with everything he wanted to say and he pressed his lips together tightly to hold it all in.  
"Good night." Neil nodded in farewell and wordlessly unlocked and opened the door. It shut, and the sound echoed in the almost eerie quiet. Todd swallowed, and was taking a big breath, turning to go when the door opened once again. Neil stumbled out as if he'd been pushed and feverishly reached for Todd, cupping his face and bringing his lips to his. He tasted sweet and warm, and Todd's head was swimming.  
Neil pulled back reluctantly, smiling wide and euphoric.  
"Good night, like actually this time." He kissed him softly again and retreated back into the room. Todd floated down the hallway, back to elevator, and stepped inside. As the doors closed in front of him, giddy laughter bubbled its way out of him and he took in his blushing, glowing mirror-self in the reflection of the chrome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucking finally right? also i know the "can u hold this for me" thing is SUPER fucking lame but neil and todd r super fucking lame so what the fuck ever let me have fun u fucking fascists


	6. machine gun etiquette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayo, so lots of philosophizing in this chap.....we get to know our boys more.....get to know ourselves more......i know I'm usually pretty hog wild in these little notes but I'm fucking exhausted so I'm just gonna post this chapter and then pass out, i love all of u

An icy wind whipped at Todd's cheeks as he blearily made his way from the hotel, drinking in the sweet pink-petal haze of the dirty sidewalk beneath his feet. It was as if someone had strapped a pair of rose-colored glasses onto his head and then thrown him on a Tilt-a-Whirl before pushing him out onto the street. He didn't even feel like he needed his jacket now, a sweet warmth radiating from his chest and into his limbs, like someone had replaced his heart with a space heater. It wasn't a crazy theory, considering his heart had settled nicely in his throat and didn't show any signs of moving any time soon. He couldn't stop biting his chapped lips, just to reaffirm to himself that they were there, and that Neil hadn't just kissed someone else's lips, that there wasn't some kind of mistake. He could still feel the soft pressure of Neil's hands cupping his face and the tickle of his bangs as they brushed against his forehead and he stopped abruptly in the middle of the street to catch his suddenly ragged breath.  
"TODD!" A deep voice thundered from farther down the street, and Todd didn't have time to turn around before a large hand landed on his shoulder. Pitts looked at him in relief, obviously glad to see him.

"Where the fuck have you been? Keating was about to shit himself, we had no idea where you were!" His eyebrows were raised expectantly, waiting for Todd to elaborate but he couldn't form words. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.  
Pitts rolled his eyes and put an arm around his shoulders, directed him in the opposite direction. "We're parked at the McDonald's up here. Have you seen Meeks?" Todd nodded absently, not wanting Pitts to worry any more than he already had.  
"He was drunk." His voice was raw and clawed its way out of his throat more viciously than he had anticipated. "He had gone to sleep with Charlie and it backfired."  
Pitts guffawed, tossing his head back. "He actually went to fuck Charlie? Are you serious?"  
"Yeah, but Charlie's a dick, you know, so he put his foot in his mouth and Meeks got mad and then got, like, shitfaced at some lame yuppie bar. He was drinking a fucking cosmo, of all things, when Neil and I found him. He's staying at the hotel tonight, in Knox's room."  
"Oh, so you were hanging out with Neil?" The implication hung thick between them and Todd didn't have the strength to deny anything had happened. Pitts chuckled.  
"I never thought I'd live to see the day where you got ass before Meeks. Like, Meeks is neurotic and high-strung but he's not shy and he does have a great ass, you have to admit."  
Todd rolled his eyes, "You know, Pitts, just because Meeks has an ass that won't quit doesn't mean I don't have physical attributes one could also find attractive."  
"Ah, yes, of course! You have those big soulful blue eyes, all melancholy and brooding. Anyone could just melt looking into them." His eyes narrowed because he wasn't sure if Pitts was making fun of him, or simply trying to butter him up for more details about his and Neil's comparatively dull convenience store run.  
"We just went to a corner store is all. Neil had meant to get Charlie a candy bar from the vending machine at the hotel but forgot, and I ended up getting it and eating it before he could come back down for it. He doesn't know that part, though." He pursed his lips to conceal a fond smile. "His favorite cereal is Cookie Crisp. He and the guys are all from Vermont. He likes acting. He kissed me."

The last bit was mumbled under his breath, more to remind himself that that part was in fact real, not some conjured unfounded fantasy. It felt as if Neil had stolen some part of him with that kiss; it had slipped almost effortlessly from his lips and was now settled deep somewhere within Neil, never to return. Pitts clapped him on the shoulder.  
Pitts didn't seem to acknowledge the quiet confession at the end of his account, and instead launched into a retelling of his and Cameron’s night.  
"So we're just walking, right, and this fucking girl was standing outside some fruity nightclub and she basically pulled us into this place, dude, like by the collar. It was an okay time, like everyone there were fucking consumerist pigs but they were consumerist pigs who were buying me drinks, so I let it slide. Cameron got laid, dude. Like. The whole nine yards. Penetration and everything."  
"I really did not need to know that much."  
"Yeah, well better I tell you in vague, heavily generalized detail now then you having to hear it in sweaty, hyperbolic detail from Dick himself."  
Todd tutted. "I feel bad for the girl."  
"Me too. Huh, will you look at that." The sun was starting to rise and the sky had paled and gone rosy, the city frosted in a crisp morning mist.  
"Oregon is so orange in the morning. You had breakfast yet?"  
Todd shook his head, hands still buried deep inside his jacket.  
Pitts chuckled, "Maybe eating something, some caffeine will get you out of this lovesick funk. I need you back to full Todd function, especially if Meeks is going to be all mopey and introspective and Cameron is gonna be up his own ass."  
"He's usually up his own ass, anyway," Todd said breezily. 

Neil lay on the commercial carpet of Room 351, eyes closed but not asleep. Charlie snored like an ox and had his arm thrown over his eyes, just as dramatic in sleep as he was in his waking hours. Neil opened his eyes and let his head lull to the side. He wanted to wake Charlie up, shake him. He had so much to say, so much feeling was welling up inside of him. He felt like he must look like a balloon, getting bigger and bigger, floating higher and higher. But his body stayed firmly on the ground, as he was reminded by the concrete that dug into his back underneath the rough, hard carpet.  
Earlier, in the hall, he pussied out completely. Todd had looked so soft. There was a little bald spot right above his ear where whoever had clipped it had gone too short, and his hands trembled as they laid at his sides, obviously wanting to reach out to him, but too nervous, too uncertain. Neil wondered if his skin tasted as peachy and sweet as it looked in the earth-tones of the hallway, and shakily rammed the key in the lock to escape, his knees almost buckling under the weight of longing that shook him, that he was unwilling to let himself give in in to just yet.  
The minute he entered the room, he was faced with Charlie who told him: "You're a fucking moron." and shoved him back out into the hall, into Todd's ecstatic and unexpecting arms.  
He imagined Todd was on the floor with him. His head would be cradled snugly on his chest, and he would be just as gently warm and pliable as he had been in his arms earlier. His deep, relaxed breaths would lull Neil to sleep and they'd wake up sometime midday, contentedly wrapped around each other. Sighing, he rose and got into the real bed next to Charlie's, thinking maybe he'd sleep better without the concrete. 

"Have you ever been in love?"  
Pitts and Keating balked at the sudden question. Todd had had five cups of coffee in the last 20 minutes and the waitress was pouring him a sixth. His overly-caffeinated hands shook as he fiddled with the plastic tab of a mini cup of half-and-half.  
"Mr. Anderson, I think it's best if you were to sleep a few winks. You seem a touch punch-drunk."  
"You're evading, both of you."  
Pitts scoffed. "I'm only in love with the movement. I can't really focus on romantic companionship when our planet is being shot to shit, literally and figuratively."  
"How noble of you, Mr. Pitts. Why are you asking this?"  
Todd paled and broke the intense eye contact Keating had been holding with him.  
"I was just curious." He left it at that, not wanting to pour his heart out when he felt he wasn't really in his right mind, buzzing and humming with caffeine and no sleep. He always regretted bringing something up to either of them without thinking hard about how he was going to phrase it beforehand. They both had this sixth-sense when it came to reading people, Pitts and Keating, and Todd really couldn't rationalize why he had decided to ask them this question with his glaringly obvious motives.  
Pitts reached over and took the coffee cup from Todd while he was mid-panic, and took a sip, grimacing and almost gagging at how thick it was with cream and sugar.  
Todd changed the subject. "How'd you sleep, Keating?"  
"Oh, fine, fine. I do wish those seats reclined, though."

Chris and Ginny brushed their teeth together, side by side. Ginny's hair looked like a rat's nest and she squinted irritably at the mirror, still in her pajamas. Chris, by contrast, was already dressed and neat, hair tied back in a ponytail with her sweatshirt sleeves rolled up to keep them from getting wet in the sink. Chris spat, and washed off her toothbrush in the sink.  
"It's a pity that fight fell through." Chris said. Ginny laughed with her mouth full of toothpaste and sprayed a little onto the bathroom mirror.  
"Tell me about it. But now instead of hearing Charlie boast about winning, we have to hear him talk about how hot he is and how everyone is love with him and blah de blah."  
"Not necessarily. Knowing our good friend Charles, I'm sure he fucked something up last night. We'll know later today, more than likely." Chris slicked down some flyaways behind her ear and adjusted the bobby pin holding her cowlick down. Ginny spit into the sink, and turned to her girlfriend with a pout.  
"How do you always look so good? While I always look like this?" She gestured to herself and swore when she saw the foamy white spot on her shirt that she had been trying desperately to avoid. Chris gave her a quick kiss and smiled, tucking some of Ginny's unruly hair behind her ear. "You look great all the time. Would you like some coffee, darling?"  
"God, yes!"

________________________________________________________________________

Charlie jerked awake to a loud rapping on the door. He rolled over and tried going back to sleep before the rapping could resume, but the unwelcome visitor beat him to the punch. He huffed and shoved himself back onto his back, letting his arms flop down onto the mattress dramatically. He shivered rather violently as he reluctantly extracted himself from the warm cocoon of the comforter, wearing his usual sleep uniform of a pair of boxers and nothing else. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on the frame of Neil's bed, and continued stumbling to the door, the rapping ringing out all the while. He flung it open, scowling, and Knox scowled right back at him, clutching a pillow and blanket.  
"The fuck do you want?" Charlie squinted into the harsh light of the hallway, and Knox pushed past him and into the room. "Meeks snores like a fucking freight train, I swear to God you can hear that motherfucker from seven rooms away. He must have a deviated septum or something, goddamn. He's worse than you, which I didn't think was even fucking possible." This was all half-yelled, half-muttered as Knox made his way to the armchair and plopped down. He stuck the pillow behind his head and curled up, gearing up to immediately fall back asleep. Charlie's mind had been turning vigorously since Knox mentioned Meeks's name and one could have seen the smoke coming out of his ears as his brain tried to shake off the weight of sleep and throw itself into high gear, and he stood there limply until everything clicked together. He shook Knox back awake.  
"What the fuck do you mean Meeks snores? How do you know that?"  
"Neil and Todd brought him over last night, he was like completely fucking plastered. He shacked up with me." Before Knox could explain further, Charlie grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt.  
"Did you fuck him?" His voice was low and serious, and Knox looked at him like he was crazy.  
"What does it matter to you anyway? He was drunk and needed a place to crash that wasn't the backseat of a fucking van. Go back to sleep, Dalton." Knox pushed him away, and Charlie released him, letting him flop back into the chair, murmuring a half-assed apology. 

He tossed and turned, unable to get the image of Knox and Meeks out of his head, and Knox's casual sleep-groans were not helping, only adding fuel to the fire. Knox would definitely have been a lot nicer than him, and he could absolutely see Knox scooping up an upset, drunk Meeks happily and easily. He probably invented the Neil and Todd aspect so as to not hurt Charlie's feelings, but he figured it out. Of course he would fuck his sloppy seconds, it was just like fucking high school. Nothing had changed and Charlie felt his blood boiling more and more, visualizing Meeks's freckled chest heaving as he threw his head back in blind ecstasy and mewed over and over again as Knox pounded into him, whispering sickly sweet nothings because of course he would do stupid shit like that. He tried to shake himself, calm himself down.  
Knox was more than likely telling the truth. Of course Neil and Todd would be concerned and not want him to sleep in a van when he might puke all over the place. Charlie tried not to think about why exactly Meeks had gotten drunk, surely he was just having fun. Their argument definitely had nothing to do with it. The whole situation made perfect sense and Charlie was reading too much into it. It's not like he had spent a majority of the night thinking about Meeks's mouth and how his skin felt like silk as he ran his hands down his sides, or how his freckles look like bursts of dense constellations on his chest or how his blush ran just a little past his collarbones, or how the glassy look of want and arousal in Meeks's eyes had made his heart skip a beat and his dick harden so much it ached. It's not like he rubbed one out while Neil was gone, failing to not gasp the redhead's name through gritted teeth. Nothing like any of that at all. 

His father had called him just before they started the tour. He didn't breathe a word of it to the guys, tried to push it out of his mind as soon as it was over. The fact that his father always managed to track him down, no matter where he was, had always made him so paranoid, and he thought that leaving Vermont would remedy that, at least. It had been on a phone at a bar just down the street from their apartment, and it was a comfort to know that at least Father didn't have their home address. All he had said was "Charles." but that was more than enough, and Charlie had hung up immediately and wanted to rip the phone out of the wall before he came to his senses. He had started the tour with a chip on his shoulder and he knew everyone had noticed, even Ginny, who he didn't particularly get along with usually anyway. 

Keating and Pitts gave Todd the keys to the van and went off to do what Todd assumed were intellectual things like conversations about Dostoyevsky and the implications of the human soul. Cameron was sprawled out across the seat in the very back, so Todd took the row of seats in the middle, fishing out a dollar-store felt blanket under the front passenger seat and balled up his jacket as a pillow. The morning sun glared into the car windows like nails on a chalkboard, and he pulled the blanket over his head to give himself some relief. He knew if Meeks were here, he'd be harping about how a regular sleep schedule was essential to a healthy lifestyle, despite the fact that he stayed up and drank with the rest of them most of the time. He wondered how he was doing, sleeping off a nasty hangover in Knox's hotel room, in relative luxury compared to the van. In thinking about the hotel, his mind went back to Neil and that excited shiver returned to his spine. He shook his head to clear it and rolled over, lithely maneuvering around the seat belt buckles that poked up in between the seats like stubborn weeds.  
He was just about to drift to sleep when he felt a swift kick from the seat behind him. "Todd! You'll never guess what the fuck happened last night!" Groaning, he pulled his jacket-pillow over his head and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Knox had slept for only a couple of hours before he was riled by his conscience. He had developed a crick in his neck from sleeping upright in an armchair, and he was worried that maybe Meeks had choked on his own vomit or had a stroke or something since he'd left the room. He always got nervous about living the drunk to care for themselves, no matter how annoying they could be in the process. Charlie was laying ramrod straight in bed, and it looked to Knox like he was scarcely breathing. He thought back to his wild accusations and couldn't think of Charlie actually believing something so baseless. Like, sure, Meeks is cute, and he had certainly been stripped of his inhibitions, but Knox was a gentleman, first and foremost, no matter what Charlie or Neil had to say about it. He didn't think it would matter that much anyway, being as Charlie had actively disliked Leaves' frontman since they'd met. Sure, they had kissed or whatever, but Knox knew it had to be a mind game or something on Charlie's part. Charlie doesn't get all gooey like this. The armchair was right in front of the windows, where the blinds were firmly closed, so tightly that it looked like one big slab of white on the beige wall. He stuck his hand out, cracking them open to get some inkling of what time it was. The sunlight shot through like a knife and Knox had to blink several times in order to really look out and actually see anything. As a group, they all really needed to get their sleep schedule in order. Knox was sick of feeling like death all the time. 

The punk lifestyle could really fuck you up if you weren't careful. That was kind of the point though, right? He knew Neil was terrified of being a poser. Unfortunately for all of them, they were posers, and that's probably why they were doing as well as they were. People loved punk that wasn't threatening, that was all bark and no bite, and that's exactly what they were. They knew all the right slogans, all the right institutions to rage against, but they were just inflating their egos, giving themselves an overwhelming sense of false righteousness while allowing the system to chug on as it always had. Leaves of Grass scared the piss out of him, out of all of them, for the sole reason of actually giving a shit. They weren't in it for the aesthetic, for the adoration of the disenfranchised youth of which they weren't a part; they meant every word they screamed and spit out onto the grime of the stage. Envy settled in Knox's stomach like a rock, and the parking lot ceased to hold any interest for him. It looked to be around midday.  
"What time is it?"  
Knox almost jumped out of his skin at the question, having not at all noticed that Charlie was awake or that he had rolled over to face him. The bags under his eyes were very pronounced and weighed his whole face down. His heart twinged just a bit looking at him. Charlie's loud and grandiose nature always faltered when he was alone, and he seemed to carry around this unshakeable misery, strapped to him like ankle weights. "A little past noon? Maybe later? I honestly have no idea, dude. I'm surprised Chris hasn't come in here to get us. I thought she'd want us on the road by now."  
He wasn't sure if Charlie had fallen back asleep, or if he had just closed his eyes while Knox was talking, but he didn't respond. Knox sat silently in the dark room and took in the dim quiet, before laboriously hauling himself out of the chair, and heading back to his room.

 

Knox filled a glass of water calmly in the bathroom sink. Meeks gave another raucous snore and his grip on the glass tightened. He walked over, so he was standing directly over Meeks and upended the glass right on his head. His brown eyes shot open and he laid against the dripping pillow in confusion and bewilderment. He sat up, his red hair plastered to his forehead.  
"What the fuck?" He yelled indignantly, then immediately regretted as the noise reverberated around the inside of his skull, and he put a hand to his head in an attempt to soothe the splitting headache.  
"Morning, sunshine. I need you to take a shower and vacate my premises, por favor."  
"Yeah, fuck, fine, whatever. Could you spare some aspirin for a dying man?"  
Knox rolled his eyes and fished some out of his bag, which sat open on the floor like some recently disemboweled animal. He tossed it to Meeks, who caught it clumsily and unsteadily.  
"Fun night last night, huh?" Knox smirked as he watched Meeks shove his glasses on sloppily and try to open the pill bottle unsuccessfully. The redhead scowled at him and continued to struggle with the cap, the repeated snaps of the childproof lid rattling mockingly.  
"I fucking guess. Would've been a lot more fun if I hadn't spent it in a yuppie bar, and then your bedroom."  
"Hotel room," Knox corrected just a little snidely as he took the aspirin from him and popped off the lid, handing him three.  
"Hotel room."  
Steven snatched the glass from where Knox had set it on the nightstand and sludged into the bathroom to fill it up, washing down the pills and chugging several more glasses before he was cajoled into finally taking a shower. Knox was leaving to give Meeks time to fully wake up and pull himself together when he grabbed him arm.  
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where the guys are, would you? My guys, that is."  
Knox shook his head and frowned apologetically. "Can't help you there, dude. Maybe ask Neil? He and Todd were hanging out last night, maybe he knows." Meeks nodded absently, and shut the bathroom door.  
____________________________________________________________________________

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Chris stood with her arms crossed indignantly, a shining beacon of decorum and pastel colors in the midst of the dank garage. The mechanic, to whom she was speaking to, wrinkled his nose and stroked his greasy mustache.  
"You see, miss, the labor required for a vehicle like this is way more than your average car. Honestly, I think I'm giving you a steal."  
"$900 is a steal?!"  
"For the alternator of an RV, yes."  
Chris continued to stare at him in total disbelief. "Have you actually started on any of the repairs?"  
The mechanic shook his head and Chris picked a piece of imaginary lint off of her sweatshirt. "I'm not willing to pay that. Give me the keys, we're done here."  
He shrugged and handed her the keys he had in his hand, and turned away to deal with other automotive matters. Ginny emerged from the office down the hall, and seeing the look on Chris's face, headed straight for the RV, no questions asked. The gravel of the lot crunched beneath their feet as they made their way out.  
"Did you call the guys?"  
"Yeah," Ginny said, "But I didn't get through. Like they patched me through and everything , but they didn't pick up. I'm sure they're still asleep."  
"It's 3pm! God, sometimes I really regret doing this." Chris rubbed her eyes to counteract the stress headache she felt building in her temples. Ginny pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back.  
"He said it wasn't totally shot. We should be fine for a good while. Now we know what the estimate is, we can start saving and be prepared when it actually craps out."  
Chris took a deep breath. "You're right. Let's go raise the dead, I suppose."

Meeks kept dozing off in the shower. The hot water felt so nice on his back, and before he knew it, his face was pressed against the tile of the wall. He had to keep rousing himself, smacking his cheeks and shaking his head like a dog. In one desperate last-ditch effort, he turned the water from hot to ice cold and he immediately regretted it. He had hoped that he would be more focused on the nausea and headache of his hangover to think of Charlie, but his mind was as tenacious as ever and he kept replaying the events of the previous night on a hellish, hideous loop. He felt like shit for snapping at Todd and Pitts, especially Pitts, and hoped that once they were reconvened, he could find a quiet moment to apologize. He couldn't imagine the tour continuing like this. One show in, and already he had made a total ass of himself, in more ways than one, to his bandmates and to Charlie. Meeks knew he had every right to be angry, and that he definitely wasn't the one being unreasonable here. He tried to rationalize it to himself, make a list. What exactly did he like about Charlie?  
Charlie was hot, first and foremost. He was loud and brash and completely unbridled. But, he was a total hedonist, which Meeks did not agree with. He was insensitive, and needlessly argumentative, and mean. He had no concern for anyone but himself and maybe Neil, he was arrogant. Conceited. Juvenile. 

Steven let his head clunk against the tile again, feeling even worse than before. The cons were definitely outweighing the pros, and that knowledge made last night feel like something that could've been completely avoided if he had just curbed himself. He had only half-heard what Charlie had yelled after him, but he knew it was something about control. Meeks had excellent self-control. A less supportive individual could even say it bordered on obsessive. He devoted himself to the cause and to the cause, only. Sure, he loved his friends and he loved the music he made and was very proud of it, but this whole movement had really given him a purpose. It felt like he owed it, in a weird way, for really giving him a life, and not just in the literal Mother Earth sense. He had never talked to his band about it, he had barely talked to Pitts about it. Before, he had just felt like he was going through the motions, day after day.  
"That's called depression, Steven," Pitts had said, but what did Pitts know? Nothing was wrong with him. The movement wasn't a distraction. What did he need distracting from? He washed and rinsed his face in the shower stream, then shut the water off altogether. 

Neil woke up with a film over his tongue, from sleeping with his mouth open. He smacked his lips in an attempt to moisten them, but to no avail, and he didn't want to unravel himself from the bedsheets to go get a glass of water. Charlie gave a monstrous snore, and Neil opened his eyes again just to glare. A pile of laundry had been heaped onto the armchair, but it groaned and turned over, revealing itself as Knox. In his half-asleep stupor, he didn't question why exactly Knox was in their room, and he was about to drift back to sleep when there came a hesitant knock on the door. At first, Neil thought he was just hearing things, but it came again, still soft and muted. He got up, comforter wrapped around him like a cape, and cracked open the door, squinting haggardly. Meeks stood, dressed in the clothes he and Todd had carried him back in, hands stuck awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans, toeing the carpet.  
"Hey, sorry to wake you! You and Todd were hanging out last night, so I thought maybe you would know where the rest of my band is."  
It took Neil a minute to process this and they stood in an odd silence.  
"I have no idea, dude." Neil shook his head absently. "Keating and Chris are supposed to be coordinating, but we haven't left yet, and I don't know how anal Keating is about this kind of thing. I mean, if you can't find them, you can always hitch a ride with us. We have the room."  
Meeks nodded in thanks and wordlessly went towards the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would die for charlie's insecure ass


	7. degenerated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup bitches!!!!!!!! this took a long fucking time, i know and i sincerely apologize. I'm really fucking proud of this chap tbh so PLEASE feel free to leave a comment, positive or otherwise. i've been watching fucking bates motel and that shit is dumb as fuck like how r u gonna make a prequel to psycho that takes place in the modern day with a ""50s"" aesthetic like just have take place in the 50s, bitch. step up ya prequel game, ho. also unnecessary rape? good to see max theriot getting work tho, love u boo  
> ANYWAY i've been thinking about making little playlists to go with the chaps, how y'all feeling on that? like do any of you listen to punk that isn't green day? (no offense to green day)  
> ALSO if any of u r from guerneville, ca, i apologize in advance bc i have done shit research on it, i just know it's in the bay area and that's about it. ALSO before you go into this chap know this: spitters r NOT quitters, cum is fucking disgusting and there is no shame in refusing to swallow the devil's chowder
> 
> i love you all, please enjoy!

Pitts coughed in the must and dust of the book shop. Keating had insisted they pop in, and while it was a little too dusty for his taste, their manager had quickly left him to his own devices to discuss an antique copy of Byron with the crotchety owner, who had been barricaded behind a thick wooden counter. Pitts always looked forward to these strange forays with Keating. He was a knowledgeable man, and Pitts trusted him with questions he didn't feel comfortable asking his friends. The windows of the shop were cloudy with age and the sunlight that did fight its way in filtered through the labyrinthine shelves, illuminating countless dust motes in its wake. The book shop spanned several rooms and he meandered his way around, reading the blurb on a book about Caligula and counting how many copies of the same V.C. Andrews book he found. He was never really into poetry the way his friends were, but he desperately wished he was better with prose. He had always been jealous of Todd, who had a natural inclination towards those things, and had marveled at the shit he had written completely off-handedly at school. Gerard was a hard science man. His parents had been against him going to college at all. "Just go to trade school," they had said, "Get a job as an electrician." It had kind of resigned himself to that before the acceptance letter from U-Dub came, offering him a full ride if he wanted it. At that point, it didn't matter what his parents said. He went with the guys, and graduated two years ahead of them. He had his Bachelor's in electrical engineering and a Bachelor's in physics, double-majoring just because he could. He had expected Meeks to kind of follow suit, being as Steven had always done what he did, consciously or unconsciously, but he had decided to major in ecology instead, which wasn't that surprising to anyone, but he was proud of him for going his own way. Cameron was always a lot smarter than people gave him credit for, and he had graduated that December, double-majoring like Pitts, with degrees in economics and statistics. 

Pitts had taken a job in a coffee shop, in addition to working at the Earth Fare up the street from the apartment with the rest of the guys. It was tiring, but he enjoyed being busy. Idle hands and all that, you know. The band had just been a hobby until Keating came into the picture. Gerard had been the first to notice him, looking incredibly out of place in his tweed jacket and elbow patches in the midst of the smoky haze of the bar. Meeks immediately agreed when he proposed of actually touring and trying to record an album, as did Dick, but Pitts and their withering violet Todd were more cautious. They had done a small tour earlier that year, just a few cities around Washington, and it hadn't really gone well. Add to the mix that Keating was a big dreamer, and while he was not a stupid man by any means, he tended to be blinded by the possibilities as opposed to dealing with the realities of necessitating a tour and recording an album. He was perusing a massive copy of The Gulag Archipelago when Keating poked his head around the gargantuan set of shelves. "Gerard, my good man! Are you ready to depart?"  
Pitts smiled and nodded, placing the book back on the shelf. The afternoon was brisk despite the sunshine as they went back onto the street, and Keating tied his scarf tighter around his neck. The two of them made an odd pair walking down the street, leather and tweed not really being complimentary fabrics. The brown-paper package Keating had tucked under his arm crinkled loudly as it brushed against him, and his young companion gave him a withering look.  
"How much?"  
"Nothing I can't handle, thank you."  
Pitts held his gaze for a bit, then looked down at the pavement. They walked in silence for a bit, letting themselves be jostled by the small hectic morning swarm.  
"Do you agree that falling in love is a indelible rite of passage?"

Keating burst out laughing, looking at his ingenue with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, but sometimes we don't fall in love with people. We fall in love with ideas, with possibilities. Passion is what's kept many a man's heart beating."  
"What if the passion's there, but the connection isn't? Like, I have the energy and time to give to something I love but I haven't found anything or anyone to love."  
"Gerard. You're a young man. You have your entire life ahead of you. Don't lose sleep over trivial things. I watch you boys tear apart establishments on stage most nights. Trust me when I say that I believe you connect with everyone who hears your music."  
Pitts felt so unbelievably relieved. His step felt lighter, as if he had been dragging his feet before, and a five-ton anvil had been lifted off his back. It was so reassuring to hear it from someone who wasn't just the voice in his head, desperately trying to convince him that this wasn't a waste of time.  
The blinding winter sun reflected off the sidewalk and the two strained to keep their eyes forward. They found themselves passing by the hotel Nuwanda and Meeks were staying at, and Pitts felt a pang of anger towards Charlie, as well as a bit of guilt for pushing Meeks into a hook-up he had doubts about.  
"Hey!" Ginny came running out of the lobby, hair in a disarray and looking frazzled. "John! Thank God you're here! Chris thought we had missed you. We all overslept and she's trying to scrape our boys up now. When do you want to leave? We're have to check out by 10 tonight so we were just going to go ahead and hit the road probably around 8?" There were no pauses in her delivery, just one long harried sentence."That sounds fine, Ginny. We were on our way to 'scrape up' our lot as well. Is there a place you want to meet so we're on the road together?" The question floored her and she stood, looking panicked and sweaty, mouth opening and closing in mild horror.  
"We're parked behind a McDonald's down the street. We can meet there." He gave her a politely detached but sincere smile, and gestured for Gerard to keep walking. 

 

The hotel clerk had given Chris the spare key to Neil and Charlie's room, knowing she was in charge, whether she held the official title of manager or not. The room was dark and dim with the blinds shut tight as she snuck in, taking in the band's various sleeping forms.  
"WAKE UP!" The shriek reverberated off the plaster walls of the hotel room, and the entirety of Nuwanda bolted awake. Knox slammed his head into the blinds and Charlie fell out of bed completely, clipping his head on the corner of the nightstand. Neil sat up blearily and rubbed his eyes until he could see clearly. Chris stood with one hand on her hip, the other on the lightswitch, looking murderous.  
"You motherfuckers.....slept for over 12 hours? You slept through mine and Ginny's phone calls?"  
"Chris, if we slept for over 12 hours, sleeping through a phone ringing isn't that outrageous." Knox's voice sounded like a rusty gate henge and he cleared this throat hurriedly.  
"Outrageous! That's the perfect word to describe all of you! Fucking outrageous!" Chris's voice had reached dog-whistle frequencies, and Charlie picked his head up from where it was laying on the side of Neil's bed to look at her disparagingly.  
"How about you leave us to collect ourselves and stop standing there, screeching like some goddamned harpy?" His voice dripped with venom and agitation, and Chris was visibly stung. The room was thick with tension, and after a beat, Chris approached Charlie and reached out to grab him by the collar, before being stopped by Neil, who gently led her to the door.  
"Don't worry about it, I'll get everything together," He whispered to her, trying to straddle the line between reassuring and apologetic as he pushed her out into the hall. Before he could turn around, he heard a loud thud, with Knox saying "Who the fuck do you think you are, Dalton?" as the two of them had begun a small scuffle on the floor. Neil pulled them apart gruffly.  
"Enough bullshit. Chris is right, we should have left hours ago. Get your shit together. Now. She's stressed out enough as it is."

Meeks had wandered his way down to the McDonald's down the street, the flow of people pulling him to those familiar and deceptively bright Golden Arches. Keating had a tendency to prefer McDonald's parking lots to any other fast food and/or convenience store chain, under the rationale that "Nothing really awful has even happened at a McDonald's, except shootings, which aren't that bad in comparison to other things" so when he saw the back end of the van sticking out from beside the dumpster, he was relieved but not surprised.  
Cameron was laying on his back in the back seat, mouth agape and drooling, with his neck craned backwards over the cupholder panel. Meeks rapped on the window and he didn't flinch, but Todd sprang up from the middle section of seats, eyes glassy with sleep and a cowlick from where his head had been laying on his jacket. It took him a second to register who had knocked and why, but once it all came together, Todd smiled and waved merrily, crawling over to open the door.  
Meeks regarded him warily as he climbed in.  
"Why all the cheese?" He asked, gesturing to Todd's jolly disposition.  
Todd laughed. "No reason, I'm just in a good mood. You're the one saying that I always seem depressed." There was a pause, and the redhead braced for the question he knew was coming.  
"How was your night?"  
"You know how my night was." Meeks tried not to be too obviously irritated or snappy, but how unnecessary the question was irked him. Todd knew perfectly well that he had had a particularly shitty night, especially considering that Charlie had probably told Neil, and Neil had told Todd. Todd wasn't looking at him with sympathy however, but rather with impatience.  
"If you'd rather talk to Pitts about it, just say so."  
"I don't want to talk to anyone about it! There's nothing to talk about!"  
"You were shitfaced, you puked the entire way to the hotel, and you bit Neil's head off when he brought up Charlie, making it obvious that something happened between the two of you, resulting in your aforementioned shitfaced state."  
Meeks looked away, and watched the cars rolling through the drive-thru.  
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"  
Todd wore an incredulous expression, but answered anyway. "I pissed my pants in third grade."  
"Holy shit, I remember that."  
"Yep. Worst day of my life so far."  
Steven hesitated and wrung his hands, trying to figure out how to word his predicament without going into too much detail.  
"Ok, so like...we might've gotten a little...like hot and heavy, you know?"  
Todd nodded slowly, giving him a cue to continue.  
"And I might've..." He swallowed, suddenly very nauseous, "...finished very early."  
"Oh! That's it?"  
"THAT'S IT?? That's it? Are you delusional? I wanted to drop dead! Here I am, about to get fucked by the hottest guy I've ever met in my entire short homosexual existence, and I can't even hold out 15 minutes!"  
"Well if anything, that's a testament to Charlie, isn't it?"  
"Shut up!" Meeks snapped, his body instantly tensing up. "Let's stop talking about it."  
Todd shrugged, and the two of them watched some McDonald's employees take some trash to the dumpster, and light up a joint once safely out of view of the kitchen door. The guys exchanged a look and burst into laughter, both thinking of the same instance of teenage experimentation.  
"Do you remember when we got so stoned that couldn't figure out how to get out of Pitts's car?" Todd was doubled over laughing, but he nodded while gulping for breath and Meeks continued to cackle, slapping his knee repeatedly.  
"Oh, thank God we're not straight-edge," said Todd as he returned to his previous upright position, wiping a tear from his eye while still giggling.  
________________________________________________________________________

Charlie sat on the curb outside the hotel, a scowl still on his face. All their bags, and their guitarist, were outside but the rest of the band stood in the lobby, watching Chris check them out and feeling more and more like pieces of shit. Neil had apologized privately when the two of them were in the elevator together, and Knox had thought he was above her wrath in this particular instance, but had realized he was mistaken, and now didn't know how to go about it. They should have at least tried to control themselves. She had asked hardly anything of them, and now here they were, already fucking up the tour. They didn't have an official manager, no one had really wanted them, but Chris had worked as a bartender at one of the place they frequently held gigs and volunteered herself as both sound tech and acting manager after she heard Knox's sob story over a beer he couldn't pay for one night. Her only stipulation was that Ginny had to tag along, and she had put so much work into planning out every last detail; she still was. They knew that even Charlie felt the searing sting of guilt, and made a silent vow to not be shitheads, not for the next couple of dates anyway.  
Charlie was still refusing to look at or talk to Knox, which puzzled him. He didn't remember much about the night before, only that he had moved to his bandmates' room after Meeks got to be too much, so he couldn't be sure if he had offended him or not. He didn't understand how Charlie could get so touchy so fast. He would go from being the most laid-back, sarcastic asshole to being super sensitive and sulking over every slight, real or imagined, and it was infuriating. He had vented to Neil about it once, anxious of how he would react, knowing how close the two of them were, and he had replied, "You'd think someone who dishes out that much shit would know how to take it. Just try not to sweat him too much. I know he's a dick, but there's always a lot going on inside of him, you know? Just leave him alone.", and then changed the subject.  
Chris collected her things from the front desk, and made her way to the door, walking with a steely demeanor between Knox and Neil, who followed her out. Ginny had taken the liberty of loading a majority of their things onto the RV, with Charlie chain-smoking cigarettes he had stolen from a corner store on the curb, not looking at anyone.  
"You couldn't have just bought those?" Knox's nose wrinkled in thinly-veiled disgust, and Charlie pointedly didn't look at him. He turned his attention to helping the others load the RV and left him to sulk. 

Leaves of Grass was finally reunited, and Pitts was going to town on a Quarter Pounder and fries while Meeks and Todd smoked to quell their hunger, all three of them sitting on the curb outside. Cameron appeared from the fluorescent light of the restaurant, carrying a brown bag and a large drink. He plopped down next to them, and proceeded to light his own cigarette before eating. Pitts dug into the bag out of curiosity. "A fucking fish sandwich? Dick, I really don't understand you."  
"I'm continuing this whole vagina kick I got going on!" He beamed proudly at his own crude joke while the rest of them cast their most withering looks in his direction.  
Meeks spit into the parking lot and cracked his back, settling in for an argument.  
"Cameron, pussy doesn't smell like fish, it smells like pussy, there's a big difference, I promise you. Stop being a misogynist asshole, no one cares if you think pussy smells bad, and no person is obligated to make their pussy smell a certain way for your benefit, limp-dick."  
"Ok, first question: why is a gay man preaching to me about my quote-unquote 'misogynist' ways? Secondly, if I'm the one wrist-deep in cooze, it definitely makes it my business."  
"Wrist-deep?" Todd whispered in horror, looking slightly traumatized by the visualization.  
"Jesus fucking Christ, I literally realized I was gay when I was hilt-deep in Jessica Murphy, you know that! I've fucked several pussies, I can speak on the subject! And you are a misogynist!"  
"No I'm not! I love women!"  
"Microaggressions." Pitts said through a mouthful of burger by way of an explanation.  
"Yeah? Well you're a microaggressive vegan! You're eating a McDonald's burger."  
"Dick, we're a punk band comprised of dirt-poor twenty-somethings living in a capitalist wasteland, sometimes you have no choice but to become what you hate."  
Cameron ground his cigarette violently against the black asphalt, and slung his McDonald's bag around like a child throwing a tantrum, with a curt "Whatever. Also, stop fucking calling me Dick."  
"As you wish, Richard."  
"Don't call me Richard either!"  
"You're forcing us to go with Richie. It's Richie now."  
Meeks and Todd intoned their agreement, nodding like bobbleheads while Cameron thought up interesting ways to murder them and scatter their remains across the Pacific Northwest. 

The tension in the RV could have been cut with a knife, Chris and Charlie were at odds, Charlie and Knox were at odds, and Neil and Ginny sat around the little table together and tried to focus on their respective books while simultaneously attempting to prevent any emotions from boiling over. Chris was focused on driving through the still-narrow city streets, and Charlie and Knox were listening to music individually, sitting as far away from each other as possible. Ginny leaned in as surreptitiously as she could.  
"What's up with those two?"  
"From what I understand, Charlie thinks that Knox slept with Meeks," said Neil, without looking up from his book.  
"Why would he care?"  
Neil raised his eyebrows, and looked at her in genuine surprise.  
"Charlie has wanted to plow that furrow since we started this whole thing. He almost did, but then he sabotaged himself."  
"I didn't know Charlie was into plowing furrows."  
"He plows furrows of many kinds, believe it or not."  
Ginny shook her head in amazement. "I learn more about you all every second."  
Neil shrugged. "We're a complex group of guys." She snorted at that, and went back to her book, trying hard to ignore the fact that Charlie and Knox were now unconsciously glaring at each other. The RV slowed, and Chris pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's, presumedly so that Leaves could follow them.  
Their van looked particularly rusty and dented in the twilight, with the RV's headlights glinting harshly off its windshield. Charlie could see a shock of red hair inside of it from where he was and he felt deathly nauseous, his stomach sinking like a stone. Seeing a chink in his armor, Knox struck without thinking, only intending to hurt.  
"You should've seen what he looked like when he was sucking my cock." He said, just low enough for him to hear.  
Charlie leapt forward like a shot, and tackled him out of the seat, getting on top of him and pummeling, getting several good hits in. Neil moved to pull them apart, but got tangled in the table and tripped over the two instead, hitting the back of the driver's seat. Chris turned around to see what the fuck was going on, and stepped over Neil, separating the two herself. Charlie had bust Knox's lip but he was still smiling, as Chris ordered them to opposite ends of the vehicle. She pushed Knox back over to the couch, and made Charlie sit at the table with Neil, in between him and Ginny so he couldn't go anywhere without either of them moving to let him. He was still breathing heavy, with murder in his eyes, as Knox smiled a big, Cheshire smile, despite his bloody lip and the fact that all the smiling was making the bleeding even worse. It was obvious that Knox thought he had won, and was basking in the glow of his perceived victory, but Neil gave him a disgusted look, and Ginny, now knowing the situation, looked none too happy either. Charlie was staring at the Formica of the table, hands jittering for a cigarette, while malevolence came off him in waves. A brisk knock sounded at the RV door and Keating poked his head in. There was a pause as he took in the relative calm after the storm, before addressing Chris.  
"Good evening! Miss Noel, I was curious as to when you wanted to shove off."  
Chris sighed and looked like her knees were about to give out under the stress of the last 24 hours. "Now is fine, John. The sooner we get there, the better. It's going to be ten hours, so just stop whenever we stop, or signal to us if you need to, so we don't get separated."  
Keating nodded and gave her a small, whimsical salute before closing the door and getting back into the van. 

"Looks like they got into a bit of a tiff." He said as he climbed back into the driver's seat and buckled up.  
"Tiff about what?" asked Meeks from the front seat, trying to use what little light there was to do a crossword puzzle.  
"We can only speculate, gentlemen. Are we ready to proceed?"  
"This is gonna be ten hours, right? Like ten straight hours?" Cameron asked despairingly. Keating gave him the affirmative and he slumped in his seat. Todd, who reading quietly in the back with Cameron, shot him a very gentle dirty look, having already had enough of him today. Pitts had the middle section all to himself, because of his long dancer legs, and was spread out comfortably, hands behind his head. The RV began to back out, and Keating followed suit.  
The first few hours passed easily, most of the boys sleeping, and their manager listening to opera quietly as the landscapes of Oregon, and later Northern California, passing by silently in the darkness. Meeks had remained awake and he and Keating exchanged minimal conversation, both opting to listen to the music instead.  
"Do you know this one?" Meeks asked, as an aria began and Keating perked up in his seat.  
"Ah, yes. The mad scene from Lucia di Lammermoor. A beautiful coloratura piece; you can hear the desperation and heartache so distinctly. It sounds like she's choking to get the words out, doesn't it? She's so overcome."  
Meeks nodded along, and couldn't help but feel like this was much more of a conversation for Pitts than himself.  
"Um...have you ever heard of a band called Reagan Youth? They have this song called Degenerated and every time they sing the chorus, they sound stupider and stupider because the song's about the intellectual degeneration of Reagan's America?" Now it was Keating's turn to smile politely and nod. For someone who was very willing to become their manager, he didn't think Keating had ever really listened to any punk music in his life, outside of their live shows that he was obligated to listen to.  
"Are you happy, Mr. Meeks?"  
Steven blinked and tried not to look incredibly taken aback by the sudden question. 

There was a long pause, the humming of the engine beneath the silence as the song faded out, and he couldn't find the words to answer. Obviously he wanted to say yes. There were so many things in his life that he was grateful for, and that brought him happiness on a daily basis. His friends made him happy, their band made him happy. The cause made him happy. But on the whole, he didn't know how to answer. He felt like there was big hole in his chest where everything just fell right out of him. He expected to look down at the floorboards and see some organ of varied importance pulsing there between his feet.  
"Yeah, I think I am."  
"You think you are or you know you are?"  
Keating didn't probe the issue further, and left his young compatriot to reflect inward. Several minutes passed before Meeks spoke up again.  
"How would you quantify happiness?"  
The manager smiled to himself. "Happiness is whatever you define it as. It can only be quantified in the way you want to quantify it."  
"Let's stop talking about this."  
He nodded, and returned his attention to driving.

They were headed to a small coastal town called Guerneville, which none of them had ever heard of. It was evidently in the Bay Area and right on the water, but they weren't playing a bar this time, but rather a small outdoor festival, which scared them all shitless. Logically, there's little difference between performing in a bar and performing not in a bar, but bars were all they knew. Nuwanda wasn't worried, but Nuwanda could suck a dick. As soon as Keating had told them, Todd had broken out into a sweat, and he could feel the anxiety wrap around and squeeze his chest like a boa constrictor made of barbed wire. He had tried fall asleep in the van, but the vibration of the window he leaned against made it impossible for him to be unconscious for more than 10 minutes at a time. Disgruntled, he finally sat up, content to watch the other cars on the highway, of which there were a surprising amount. He could hear Keating and Meeks talking upfront, but couldn't hear their hushed tones over the roar of the van's heating system. He hadn't seen Neil today, in all the rush of getting on the road, and his previous bubbly mood had slowly devolved in a sticky gloom that coated everything he touched in a blue residue. He wanted to talk to him; they had a lot to talk about, he felt, but at the same time, he was terrified. What if Neil didn't feel the same way, and this whole thing had been a fluke, some cruel joke to him? Todd didn't actually believe that, but his anxiety screamed at him, ricocheting off the inside of his skull, "HE DOESN'T WANT YOU, NO MATTER WHAT HE MAY SAY OR DO" and he could only subject himself to so much before he would get discouraged and upset. He wanted to talk to someone about it, Knox or maybe even Charlie.  
Someone who spent a lot of time with Neil and who could ascertain Neil's level of interest without Todd having to ask him directly, and potentially humiliate himself. A sharp noise pulled Todd out of his head and he looked to see Meeks completely rotated in his seat, snapping his fingers at him.  
"Are you thinking about Neil?" The question sounded very accusatory and weirdly maternal, but Meeks was always the maternal one, whether he admitted it or not, and Todd hesitated in answering.  
"I knew it! Get him out of your head, clean him out. That band is bad for us, emotionally and morally."  
"You're so full of shit," Todd surprised himself as the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, "You're just mad because you and Charlie had a falling out, over something really stupid might I add. What Neil and I do has no sway over the movement, or my politics, or how I perform in the band. You're projecting your problems onto me."

Meeks gawked at the mousy blond's inexplicable growth of a backbone, and quietly began explaining himself.  
"I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry it came off like I was projecting, I promise I'm not trying to pull you down with me. What I'm getting at is that we don't know them well enough to be pursuing these kinds of relationships with them. It would be fine if we were just fucking, but obviously neither of us have any intention of just hooking up. Like...I know I'm jumping to conclusions based on one bad experience with Charlie, but it really upset me, and I don't think his conduct really depicts a one-time insert-foot-in-mouth scenario, but rather that he won't respect me enough to care when I'm upset or uncomfortable, you know? Things like that can be really telling."  
Todd nodded along sympathetically. "You know, Neil and I really haven't done anything. Like we kissed once, but that's it. He's been wonderful so far. Maybe Charlie's just a prick."  
"That's fair." They both laughed, and abruptly stopped when Keating swerved to the left and hit the rumble strips. He jumped back to life, having dozed off at the wheel, and Meeks insisted they pull over, and he would drive while Keating slept. John sleepily assented and flashed his brights to the RV, as the two of them made their way to the right lane to get off at the next exit. The road it emptied out onto to was completely deserted, save for three gas stations, all lit up, but only one that was open inside. Being as both bands were dealing largely with cash, there was really only one option.  
They pulled in, John parking the van haphazardly and crookedly next to a gas pump, and Chris parking with expert precision out at the diesel pump.  
Both bands emptied out and went inside, a sleepy Pitts and Cameron included. Ginny stuck by Chris and helped her fuel, and Charlie stalked far behind Knox and Neil, who were joking amiably with each other. Knox had apologized for antagonizing Charlie and Neil had forgiven him, knowing he couldn't really blame him and despite the fact that his apology struck him as particularly disingenuous.  
The station itself stunk, probably do to the farmland surrounding it, and the smell of manure permeated inside the building as well. The clerk wasn't upfront, so Pitts and Cameron were being morons and putting their mouths directly under the slushie machines and pulling the levers. Meeks was scrutinizing their pre-made sandwiches, and a couple aisles over, Todd was debating between Ding-Dongs or Ho-Hos, both excellently named processed snacks. He felt a warm hand on his lower back. A voice whispered "Hi," in his ear, and he turned to see Neil grinning at him. The barbed wire wrapped around his chest melted away, and he couldn't say or do anything for a minute besides smile stupidly back at him.  
"Hi! How's your drive been?"  
Neil rolled his eyes and cracked his back in response, slumping his head over onto Todd's shoulder. The blond giggled and tried not to seem that infatuated as Neil looked up at him through his bangs. "What kind of snack should I get it?"  
"What are you deciding between?"  
"Ding-Dongs or Ho-Hos."  
"Both very well-named snack foods."  
"I know! I want something chocolate, but I'm not sure if these are the right fix."  
"Well, I mean they are both chocolate, but you could probably find something cheaper. Hostess tends to run a little pricey."

As Todd and Neil continued their Hostess discussion, Meeks felt a presence descend upon the sandwich fridge. Knox began rummaging around next to him, and he turned to smile at him politely before turning away.  
"Can you eat sandwiches? With the vegan thing?"  
"Yes."  
"Are there any vegan sandwiches in this thing?"  
"Probably not. I was going to go with the Italian Club."  
"Dude! That's like four different meats!"  
"Were you born this way?"  
"Born what way?"  
"Stupid."  
Meeks grabbed a veggie wrap hastily and moved towards another aisle, when Knox grabbed his arm.  
"Hey, listen. I gotta tell you something." Meeks raised his eyebrows, gesturing for him to go on.  
"Ok, so. You know how you slept in my room, right?"  
"Right. I haven't forgotten."  
"Cool, well, for some reason, Charlie thinks we fucked and he's been really sore about it, and I've been giving him shit because it really pisses him off."  
Meeks was now very interested.  
"Also I've been talking about you sucking my cock and stuff all day, but that's all embellishment. Obviously. Like you're cute and all, don't get me wrong, but you're not my type."  
"That's very sweet of you, Knox, thank you. Is there a particular reason you decided to tell me this?"  
"Do you and Charlie have a problem?"  
"Yes."  
"Awesome, me and Charlie are having a problem too. Do you wanna like have a really nasty make-out session right now? Again, this would be to piss him off and would only last like one minute max. He's over by the cappuccino machine."  
Meeks was very aware of where Charlie was, and had been purposefully not looking at him the entire time.  
"It would REALLY piss him off, dude."  
"You don't have to tell me twice." With that, Meeks grabbed the collar of Knox's jacket and stuck his tongue has far into his mouth as he could, pawing at his clothes in a decidedly un-Meeks fashion. Knox yelped a little just the sudden pressure on his busted lip, but was way better of a kisser than he anticipated, and despite the overabundance of spit and unnecessary moaning, he got into it for a bit, only vaguely hearing the door slam shut. When their minute was up, they separated and burst into laughter. Todd was stunned, Neil looked murderous, and the other half of Leaves were still in very intimate contact with the slushie machines and hadn't noticed. 

Charlie had holed himself up in the bathrooms, which were located outside. After that fucking display, he wanted to walk back onto the highway and into oncoming traffic. He had tried to convince himself that nothing had happened, but obviously something had and everyone saw who Meeks had chosen. He felt disgusting, like wet food in dishwater, vomit in a plastic bag thrown into the underbrush off the side of the road. He felt bile rise in his throat, and for an agonizing second, he thought he actually was going to vomit. He sat, cross-legged, on the floor of a gas station bathroom stall with the door shut, in Bumfuck, California, trying not to either kill his bandmate or himself, which was a tough call. He felt ridiculous for all this emotion to begin with. He barely knew the guy, who cares if he doesn't want to fuck him or not. But in all honesty, he had felt a connection with him, a connection he hadn't felt with anyone in a long, long time, and his rejection felt like a hot brand on his chest. He heard someone else enter the bathroom, and he decided that he was time to move the Self-Loathing Express to some other venue. He opened the stall door, and there was Meeks washing his hands, and Charlie's heart all but stopped. Meeks didn't seem too excited to see him either, but they held eye contact in the dirty mirror. Meeks turned off the faucet and went to dry his hands. Before he could turn to leave, Charlie was off like a shot and locked the door before blocking it.  
Meeks sighed, "This is shitty deja vu. Get out of my way."  
"Why Knox?" Charlie was disgusted with how his voice cracked, and he closed his eyes because he didn't want to see the look of Meeks's face, regardless of what it was.  
There was an unbearable silence. His voice and the look on his face had broken Meeks's heart just enough that he instantly felt like shit for the stunt they had pulled.  
"I didn't fuck Knox. At all. He knew you were angry about the prospect and has been talking shit to you all day. I was still angry, so when he told me, I played along. But that's all it was. We didn't do anything, I swear to God."  
Charlie had opened his eyes, and he looked even more hurt and fractured than before. "It was all a joke, huh?"  
"Yeah. I'm really sorry. I didn't think you would take it this hard."  
He barked a laugh, "Yeah, I'm sure you didn't think about me at all."  
"Charlie..."  
"Save your bullshit, I don't want to hear it. You talked all this shit about how I made fun of you and how I don't respect your feelings, but you play along with something like this? What the fuck?"  
Steven was at a loss and he was unsure of whether it would be appropriate to reach out and embrace him, so he kept his arms hanging limply by his sides.  
"The door's locked, right?"  
Charlie looked at him. "Yeah, why?"  
"I'm really sorry. I'm really, really sorry." He stepped closer and Charlie flinched away, pressing himself against the door. Meeks set his hands on Charlie's hips and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

He looked in him directly in the eyes, and began to sink down onto his knees, never breaking his gaze. He unzipped his jeans with a shaky hand, and dipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers. Charlie was starting to hyperventilate, and was doing a very good job of not showing it, but Meeks's trembling gave away how nervous he was. Charlie's dick was bigger than he expected, and laid heavy in his palm as he pulled it out. It was darker tone than the rest of his skin, and the brown pubic hair that acted as a halo around it reminded Steven a little bit of steel wool, though this obviously wasn't something he thought he should bring up at that moment. It had already hardened from being in his hand, and he gave it a few strokes to test the waters. Charlie pressed himself harder against the door and moaned quietly, just enjoying the feeling of someone touching him.  
Meeks tentatively licked up the shaft, before putting the tip in his plush mouth.  
"Oh, fuck," Charlie muttered, and moved to thread his fingers through what little hair Meeks had, as he tried to swallow him down without overwhelming himself.  
Charlie almost came right there, taking in Meeks on his knees with his mouth around his hard cock.  
He had gotten in the swing of it now, and was taking him deeper and deeper, bobbing back and forth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and moaned and Charlie had to grab the door frame in order to keep himself upright. He took his mouth off of his dick to breathe for a second and spit on it, making sure Charlie's eyes were only on him. Meeks girded himself and took a big breath, swallowing him back down as far as he could go, trying not to gag as he almost hit the back of his throat. Charlie's balls were starting to tighten and he felt his orgasm on the horizon. In the midst of the jumbled nonsense that was falling out of his mouth, he tried to give Meeks some warning.  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Steven, I'm gonna- fuck, fuck!"  
Meeks raised an eyebrow and didn't pay him much mind. The pleasure was building and building in his stomach, and he came into Steven's mouth with a cry and let his head slump back against the door as he rode out his orgasm. Meeks choked and pulled off quickly to spit cum into the sink, letting some fall onto the bathroom floor with a thick plop. Charlie was too busy seeing stars to move immediately, but Meeks continued to wash out his mouth, gargling with water from the faucet. He spit into the sink, and fished some paper towels out of the dispenser, extending them towards Charlie.  
The guitarist paid no mind, and Steven scoffed, stooping down to clean him off himself and tuck him back into his jeans. 

He straightened back up and threw the paper towel away, turning back to open Charlie's eyelids with his thumbs and try to gently push him back into motion.  
"You're so lethargic post-coital, it's ridiculous. We have people waiting, come on, man."  
"Oh, I'm sorry, are you trying to get past?"  
"Yes." Meeks said tersely with crossed arms, pursing his lips to suppress a smile and failing. Charlie heaved himself off the door and unlocked it behind his back, continuing to face the redhead, mirroring his smile.  
"Your lips are swollen from sucking my cock." Charlie said this more to himself than to Meeks, but Meeks lit up bright red anyway and tried to push through the door without another word. Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him back in, kissing him when he opened his mouth to argue.  
"That sucks. I wanted to taste myself on you."  
"Well you should have moved faster. Come on, I have a van to drive and you have to go be smug in an RV." Charlie grinned, "You missed a spot,"and wiped a small splotch of cum off his cheek with his thumb, before put it in his mouth. "You're disgusting. I'm outta here." Meeks darted out while he still could, knowing that if stayed any longer, there would be no Guerneville tour date, just the two of them getting down in a gas station bathroom.

_________________________________________________________________________

Both bands had finished fueling up a while ago, but it was nice to not be squished into a motor vehicle, so they had set up an impromptu picnic, sat in a circle on the concrete next to the air pump. Todd and Neil sat practically intertwined, Todd munching on a Ding-Dong and sharing a Coke with Neil, who was more thirsty than hungry. Knox, who had gotten chewed out by Neil and then Chris, once Chris had been made aware of the situation, sat sulkily on the outskirts of the circle, while everyone else ate shitty snacks and slushies and just made general conversation. Neil, sharp-eyed as ever, saw Meeks slip out of the bathroom and go around the building, so the group couldn't watch him walk over. A few minutes later, Charlie followed suit and he put two and two together.  
Meeks joined the circle and sat down easily next to Todd, who offered him one of his many packs of Ding-Dongs. Neil leaned into his ear, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"  
Todd turned to him and nodded knowingly, looking pointedly at Charlie who went to go sit by Knox, weirdly enough. Knox was very much on his guard and concerned with him sitting so close, but he leaned in so that just Knox could hear and said: "You were totally right. He looks amazing sucking cock." Knox was surprised but Charlie smiled easily and started to laugh, until the two of them were in stitches.   
Meeks spoke up, "I think it's time we get back on the road."  
"Agreed!" Chris and Ginny piped up in unison, and the guys groaned. Everyone heaved themselves up and split off accordingly. When Charlie passed him, he winked and gave him a shitty little half-smile, and Meeks rolled his eyes, despite the warmth that bubbled up into his chest. Neil and Todd were especially reluctant and took their sweet time gathering their trash and empty drink bottles. They walked over to the farthest trash can and Todd felt Neil's hand curled around his forearm. He looked at him curiously, before Neil lifted it to his lips and kissed Todd's wrist and the palm of his hand, taking in those beautiful blue eyes all the while. Todd leapt forward and kissed him, clinging to him like he was a drowning man who had just found water in the desert. They kissed and laughed lightly and kissed again until an impatient honk sounded loudly against the night. They broke apart still laughing, and Neil kissed his hand again. "I'll see you in Guerneville, huh?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i know. i did that.


	8. the day the world turned day-glo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup! this is def more of a goofy chapter, neil being irritated and pitts being dreamy mechanic man and charlie and knox being fucking stupid idiots that are simultaneously sweethearts that you let have sex with you after you meet them drunk at a house party and even though they're not that good in bed you still give them your number bc you really don't have it in you to be mean to them bc you know they really mean well. that was a very in-depth description but I've had a HELL of a time with finals and just life stress in general. also a tiny s/o to @kid_from_yesterday for like. lighting those comments up bitch!!!! also sick mcr reference, I've been listening to a lot of danger days recently believe it or not. ALSO!!!! playlists are up, only for the first 2 chaps unfortunately bc as I've said, I've been a busy little bee. more to come however! AND ANOTHER THING!!!!!! if any of you are those artist types.....i would love some LOVE some concept art of the dudes? just to see if i'm describing them the way i see in my head. thank you all so much for sticking with this! i really appreciate the support!!!  
> http://bit.ly/2oRQ8c5  
> http://bit.ly/2pHLX7z

Meeks gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He kicked himself for volunteering for this, having momentarily forgotten how fucking terrified he was of driving. Keating was sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat, and the rest of the band had been giving, and continued to give him, a ton of shit.   
"Come on, Sammy Hagar, it's the fucking interstate! 55? What the fuck are you thinking?" Cameron jeered, gesturing crudely with his Slim Jim.   
"Beef jerky is so disgusting, Richie, there's no way you can have an actual taste for that. Also I'm certain you just fucked up that reference, Sammy Hagar can't drive 55 because he's speeding, like he's going faster than 55." Pitts said, slurping obnoxiously on his slushie for comedic effect.   
Cameron looked him right in the face and ripped off a huge piece of jerky to be a smartass but had a hard time stuffing it all in his mouth.  
"Am I the only remembering that we don't eat meat here?" Meeks yelled distressedly from the front seat.  
Todd stared wistfully out the window, feeling like a lovesick tween girl in the throes of her first crush. He had almost asked to ride in the RV, knowing they had the room, just so he and Neil could continue to stare at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. Despite the blossoming excitement at the prospect of Neil in his entirety, he felt that voluntarily riding with them would be disloyal to his brothers-in-arms. He looked over to see Cameron choking on jerky and Pitts laughing so hard a little slushie was coming out of his nose, Meeks in the front looking like a hunchbacked old lady, slumped over the wheel to get a better view of the road, and Keating looking like a corpse, as they crawled down the interstate. 

The RV was leagues ahead of them, and Ginny mentioned as much to Chris, who had focused all of her energy and attention on driving so as to not have to deal with all the drama that had been brought into the band in the past 48 hours. Ironically, all the tension and animosity that had been there just a few hours before had completely dissipated. Neil was staring wistfully out the window, probably thinking of Todd, and Charlie and Knox were ribbing each other and making dirty jokes like they hadn't been trying to kill each other most of the day.   
"One of ours sucked dick in that bathroom, I'm telling you," Ginny had attested as soon as they all returned to the bus, and not that she didn't trust Ginny's intuition, but judging by where they were, bathroom dick-sucking just wasn't realistic.   
"Alright, but you forget that they're men and they're stupid."  
That hadn't occurred to Chris, and she turned to her girlfriend with a look of slack amazement on her face. "One of them sucked dick in the bathroom."  
Ginny nodded sagely, "Or one of them got their dick sucked in the bathroom. They're close enough to be the same thing, but boys like to draw differences when it comes to fellatio."   
The sky had started to cloud up, and the visibility on the road was getting worse and worse. Chris's grip on the steering wheel tightened.   
"Knox!" She exclaimed suddenly, "Trade places with Ginny, I want to talk to you."  
Ginny raised her eyebrows but got up, and Charlie oooh-ed like an elementary school kid when another student gets called to the principal's office. Knox plopped down in the passenger seat, and looked at her expectantly. She had chewed him out at the gas station for antagonizing Charlie, and it had seemed to humble him for a few minutes, longer than Neil's tirade had.   
She sighed, feeling a dull thud work its way forward to her temples.   
"We talked about this a little bit ago, but please stop messing with Charlie. I understand who have this very intense sense of revenge, but just let it go, ok? At least until this tour is over and I'm not seeing all of you 24/7. Please? Can you do that for me? I feel like my hair is about to fall out."  
Knox looked sincerely apologetic. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry, I didn't know all of this was weighing on you so much."  
Chris barked a laugh, "Oh Jesus Christ." She recognized that she sounded a bit hysterical, so she reeled it in. "I'm about to pull my hair out. Ginny is getting worried about my blood pressure."   
"Calm down, Grandma. Everything will be fine." She swatted his arm and smiled.   
"How did you and Charlie clear things up so quickly?"  
He paused here, carefully choosing his words. "Charlie feels like he won, so we're cool now. Because I'm not on top anymore, in his mind anyway."  
"Hmm. This has nothing to do with bathroom fellatio, I hope." Knox's nostrils flared and his eyes widened.  
"Why would it? What are you talking about?"  
Chris set her steely glare on him. "Someone gave or received in that bathroom, at a GAS STATION in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. That is completely unhygienic and the last thing I'm going to let happen is one of you catch something from all the questionable relations you have."  
"Hey Charlie, did you hear that?" Knox yelled to the back of the RV. A head full of brown hair popped up curiously from where it laid on the couch. "Tell Meeks no more bathroom blowjobs, Chris thinks they're unsanitary." Neil and Charlie both lost their shit at that, and even Ginny couldn't help but giggle. Chris let out an exasperated sigh and turned her attention back to the foggy road.

There came a jolting POP! and a horrible scraping sounded from the RV's left side. Chris immediately yanked the wheel, attempting to pull them over.   
A few sparks could be seen from the windows, Charlie and Knox beginning to chant "RIDING ON RIMS, RIDING ON RIMS," while Neil and Ginny held on to whatever was closest to them for dear life. Chris managed to get them over to a shoulder, and immediately bolted from the vehicle, not even bothering to turn it off. The front wheel on their left side was completely devoid of a tire, and the rim itself was still smoking from the exertion of getting off the road.   
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Chris crouched and put her head in her hands, trying not to cry. The rest of the passengers piled out to see what had happened, and upon seeing her girlfriend's state, Ginny went directly to her side and started rubbing her back, whispering comforting words.  
Knox whistled low. "That's fucked, man. Like. That sucks."  
"You have such a way with words, Knox, I can really see why you have girls falling over themselves." said Neil, still upset with him despite he and Charlie's inexplicable reconciliation.   
The gravel crunched as the van pulled up behind them. Meeks killed the engine and hopped out, followed by Pitts.  
"Did someone die?" Pitts asked a little stupidly, obviously having been asleep a few moments before, and Steven rolled his eyes.   
"I mean. Our tire got fucking obliterated." They both nodded in understanding, and joined them in staring at the empty rim.   
Chris brought her head up, having collected herself enough to speak. Her mascara had ran and her face was splotchy, but these things were only noticeable to Ginny, who held one of her hands in between both of hers.   
"It's almost four, like would a service station be open soon? We could probably find one." Neil shrugged slightly, trying to be comforting without invading Chris's space. 

"God, do you have any idea what tires like this cost? Like a car tire is like eighty fucking dollars at the least. Just imagine what this would cost." said Chris, miserably, massaging her temples.  
"I mean, we're getting paid by the bars we're playing right? Like I know it's not a lot but is it enough to like sustain us until we can make up whatever the tire costs? So we can like break even?"  
She sniffed, "Maybe, but I doubt it."   
"Wait, hold on, so you're saying we're not going to eat for the rest of the tour because we popped a tire and we have to replace it?" asked Charlie, in total disbelief.   
"That's exactly what we're saying, jackass." Ginny snapped, already feeling Chris start to tense up again beneath her hands.   
"Maybe it won't be so bad!" Pitts raised his eyebrows at Meeks's unusually optimistic contribution to the conversation, and stared at him, taking everything in to make sure he hadn't caught some dangerous food-borne fever from his gas station wrap. The eyes of Nuwanda bored into him mercilessly.   
"Like...you don't know what they charge for tires like this in California. We could find a tire. Shit, one could fall right into your lap! Maybe." Nuwanda continued to stare, offering him no jumping off point.   
Charlie's eyes sparkled just enough for no one to notice. "Meeks is right, no need to be so defeatist, gang." He made a fist and swung his arm in a dopey upbeat gesture. Leaves' frontman made a sour face and turned his attention to the girls.

 

"We'll give you a lift somewhere." said Meeks suddenly. "Anywhere. There has to be a service station or a garage or something around here somewhere."  
"That's a lot of wheres." He shot Pitts a nasty look.   
"You're going to try to fit us all in the van?" Knox asked with dismay.  
"Obviously, dumbass, what did you think we were gonna do, strap you to the top?" Pitts snapped.  
"You know, dude, I can really tell you just woke up, you're giving off some really bad energy right now-"  
Meeks cut him off before he could finish his latest asinine thought.   
"Let me go wake everyone up and tell them what's going on, and then we can start piling in, ok?"  
He grabbed Pitts's arm and the two of them headed back towards the van.   
"Are you sure about this?"  
"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Leave them stranded?"  
"They wouldn't be stranded, there's a huge road stop just a mile back."  
"I just want to do something nice. I don't feel like I've been nice in a long time." They both paused outside the drivers' side door. "I'm sorry about what I said at the diner. That was fucked up, and uncalled for. I was just frustrated and trying to sort through my own feelings, you know?"   
Gerard rolled his eyes. "You don't have to apologize to me. I get it."  
Without warning, he walked swiftly to the back of the van and banged forcefully on the window. There was a heavy thud and a muffled string of curses from inside.   
"Dick is up," he snickered. With Dick as the catalyst, soon the rest of Leaves was awake and alert, albeit a little angrily. Meeks popped in and leaned over the center console, facing the back.   
"Ok, so. The RV broke down. They're gonna ride with us and we'll find them a service station or something, cool?" He popped right back out before the rest could say anything and signaled at Nuwanda to come on over. 

"We're all gonna pile into that piece of junk?" Neil hit Knox upside the head.  
"That piece of junk is the only way we're getting from point A to point B right now, so shut the fuck up for once."  
"Guys." Chris gave them both a warning look, and despite her watery eyes, they both stood up a little straighter. They popped back into the RV to grab a few essentials and to kill the engine. They was no telling how far they were going to have to drive and Chris felt sick to her stomach. Leaves had completely exited their vehicle, waiting until the whole group was together so they could coordinate height-to-seat placement ratios. Keating has yanked up the center console so there was a third seat in the front. Neil didn't even have to look to find Todd as the two of them melted into each other, Todd's arm thrown around his waist with Neil's arm around his shoulders. Cameron faked sticking a finger down his throat and gagging while Pitts rolled his eyes.   
They filed in one by one: Meeks, Pitts, and Keating took the front with Ginny squeezed tightly between Meeks and the gear shift, Chris, Knox, and Charlie claimed the middle seat, with Todd, Neil, and Cameron filling up the back.   
Dick turned to his seatmates, who were too busy making eyes at each other to notice his obvious discomfort. "Okay, listen, assholes. I don't care what the two of you do over there as long as you're not like making out in front of me, okay?"  
Neil raised an eyebrow and turned to Todd with a lopsided smile. "Wanna make out?"  
He turned bright crimson but nodded, and Neil laughed at Dick's very vocal consternation.   
"You alright back there, Richie?" Pitts hollered from the front, knowing full well that Richie was not alright back there.   
"I swear to God, if they start sucking face or something, I'm bailing the fuck out of this thing, army style."   
"Hey, Dick? Stop being an asshole." Meeks said, as the van's engine roared to life and he began to carefully maneuver it back onto the highway. 

"Is his name Richie, or is it Dick?" whispered Chris to Knox, who shrugged, unperturbed by Cameron's name preference or Neil and Todd's gay backseat activities. Pitts was fiddling with the radio and Keating had fallen back dead asleep. The classical music that had lulled them all to sleep was replaced by harsh static and some country yodeling that went in and out of reception. All of the sudden, the fog of white noise cleared, and achingly familiar guitar chords filled the van, like a message from God.   
"Holy shit!" Pitts exclaimed.   
"Turn it up! Bump this, bump this!" Knox yelled excitedly.  
Chris was on the brink of tears just from the beginning of the song. Ginny looked back to make eye contact with her, and then turned it up even louder than Pitts had just a moment before.   
"I took my love and I took it down..." Stevie Nicks's dulcet voice washed over all of them like a warm ocean wave, and Knox and Pitts started screaming along.   
Chris joined in on the chorus; the off-key voices rose up in a cacophonous and emotional "WELL I'VE BEEN AFRAID OF CHANGING, CUZ I'VE BUILT MY LIFE AROUND YOU!"  
Neil took a break from being amorous to sing along, and Todd followed suit, more mumbling vaguely than singing. Cameron plugged his ears.  
"I hate Fleetwood Mac!" He tried to yell over the song but couldn't, and sat stewing over his aforementioned hatred of good music. Keating remained snoring.   
The song began to wind down, Stevie professing that the landslide would bring them down, and Chris wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeves, trying to be as elegant as one could be when crying over Stevie Nicks. Knox rubbed her back, and averted his eyes respectfully, letting her compose herself. 

Meeks and Pitts wore matching grins and Ginny turned to hand her girlfriend a napkin from the glove compartment. They had been driving for maybe 20 minutes when they saw a little mechanic's garage just off the side of the interstate. Meeks pulled in quickly and parked right in front of the windowed storefront. He hopped out and cupped his hands to the glass, hoping to see someone getting ready to open. The inside was dark and silent, and he huffed, steaming up the glass with his breath. The hours displayed on the door said they didn't open until 9. The sky had begun to pale, and the interstate was completely deserted of cars except theirs. The air had a subtle bite to in the morning chill, and Meeks welcomed the warmth of the van as he opened the door to inform the rest.  
"9?" Chris said, dismayed.   
The gears in Knox's head had been turning since she had brought up the issue of paying for a tire, and he had come to what he thought was a relatively easy and brilliant solution.   
"Everyone who isn't Chris, Ginny, or John, I want to speak with you outside." He promptly hopped out and waited for the rest to follow. Ginny's eyes had narrowed significantly and Chris looked equally suspicious.   
Both bands slowly funneled out and followed Knox as he marched several feet away from the van. They stood in a tight circle, all looking at him quizzically.   
"Okay. How many of you have college degrees?"   
Pitts and Cameron raised their hands.   
"What in?" Knox leaned in slightly, like an excited puppy getting ready to pounce.   
"Um...I have a degree in economics and statistics, and Pitts has a degree in..."  
"Electrical engineering and physics."  
"A physician and an engineer! My man!"   
"You mean a physicist?"   
"Yeah, that! What's a physician then?"  
Neil was massaging his temples, trying to not lose his cool. "Why did you call us over here?"  
"I'm getting to it!" He looked offended that Neil would have the gall to rush him, and straightened his jacket before addressing everyone.   
"So I was thinking in the car..."  
"No shit? That's surprising." Pitts deadpanned, and several of the guys snorted.  
"Fuck off, physics boy! Like I was saying, I was thinking in the car, that 1) Chris has done a lot of all of us, not just Nuwanda, and 2) we need to eat on tour, and because we owe it to Chris to take some shit off her shoulders, and saving money and getting a tire would definitely take some shit off her shoulders, I have a proposition. It might take some like tactical brilliance, which is why it's great that we have an engineer here."  
"Are you trying to build a tire?" asked Cameron, only half-listening to what Knox was saying.  
"No, we're not going to build a tire, numbnuts! We're gonna steal a tire."  
Leaves' response was unanimous and almost immediate: "Ok."  
Neil, however, looked at him bug-eyed. "Are you out of your goddamn mind? How the fuck are we gonna steal a tire?"  
"Ok, well there are tires in the garage, right? Chris has the measurements of the tire we need, we get the measurements, break a window or something, go get the tire, haul ass and hope we never get caught. I mean, there aren't any cameras anyway."  
"He's right, there aren't any cameras." Todd affirmed calmly, and Neil looked at him in complete disbelief.   
"You're fine with this?"   
"No gods, no masters. If you have the choice to conform to the capitalist machine, you never should."   
Meeks could have died of pride and Pitts clapped Todd on the back. Neil looked at all of them in horror.  
"You're all insane! The entire point of this crackpot scheme is to make Chris not as stressed, and you're suggesting something that could potentially get us arrested, which would not only sabotage our fucking tour but maybe drive Chris to insanity."  
"Neil, we're anarchists. Did you think we were anarchists in name-only? Smash the state through direct action." Meeks folded his arms like a stern kindergarten teacher.   
"We could also...you know...steal things other than the tire. Like...money from the register or....money from the register." Cameron piped up.   
"He has a point."  
"Shut up, Charlie!"  
"It's already burglary, we might as well just go for it."  
Knox rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Ok, see, this? This is what I wanted to avoid."  
"By asking a bunch of anarchists if they wanted to break shit and steal something?"  
"Shut up, Charlie!"  
"Just because we believe in violent resistance and direct action doesn't mean we're violent people. That's a ridiculous stereotype." Todd interjected.  
"That definitely rings true for you, but I love breaking shit. I thrive off negativity."  
Todd narrowed his eyes and gave Pitts a very tame but annoyed look.   
"Ok, ok," Neil steered the conversation back to Knox, "What are the logistics of this? Are we literally just going to break a window and that's it?"  
"I mean. Yeah."  
"It's settled then." Meeks scurried quickly back over to the van and popped his head in, startling its occupants. "Hey Chris, do you have the measurements for the tire?"   
Chris looked at her palm, where she had scribbled them hurriedly and was relieved to see they hadn't smeared or faded. "14.5."   
Meeks made an OK symbol with his hand and scuttled back to the huddle. "14.5."  
They all nodded. "How are we breaking the window?"   
Knox opened and closed his mouth. He hadn't thought of that. "Uh, do you guys have a crowbar or anything? Tire iron?"  
"You want us to break a storefront window with a tire iron?"  
"Shut up, Charlie! God!"   
"They're some bricks over there," Todd observed, gesturing to the corner of the building. A maniacal light blinked into both Pitts's and Cameron's eyes, and they took off, racing each other and shoving the other out of the way as they ran to the area Todd has indicated.   
"Try to get big ones, you idiots!" Meeks called, trying to not look as amused as he was.  
"That's what she said!" Cameron responded clumsily as he fumbled around in the pile of discarded masonry.   
"...Was that supposed to be a dick joke?" Neil asked quietly and Meeks sighed, resigned.   
"Yeah, I think so." 

 

"What exactly are they talking about?" Chris asked Keating, her anxiety steadily rising with each passing minute. He shrugged, obviously unperturbed.   
"I often just leave the boys to their wiles. They're radicals, but they're not foolish. They know how to handle themselves, most of the time." He put extra emphasis on 'most of the time', as the two of them watched the group migrate toward the front of the garage. Pitts and Cameron were each carrying something heavy but indistinguishable to either. Ginny had dozed off on Chris's shoulder, and was mumbling gibberish under her breath. Chris wanted to squirm around to see the group better but she also didn't want to wake her.   
There was a burst of noise as the boys had evidently started to argue. She could barely make out anything they were saying save for a few bits and pieces.  
"I should get to throw it first!" Throw what?, she thought. Knox happened to turn and look at them. Seeing Chris awake and conscious and paying way too much attention than she should be, he jogged over while the others continued bickering.   
"Hey, Chris?" he said as he popped his head in the door, "Could you close your eyes and plug your ears and stay like that for like...maybe ten minutes?"  
"What's going to take ten minutes?"  
"Oh, you know. Stuff."  
He popped back out swiftly and went back into the fray. Charlie, Pitts, and Cameron were arguing over who should throw the first brick.  
"Ok, but get this, shithead: the drummer from MY band was the one who came up with this idea in the first place and since this would be my inaugural burglary, I should get to throw it." Charlie was screaming at this point, trying to speak above Cameron's incessant protestations.   
"We're the professionals here! We know how to throw it!" Cameron kept saying over and over and Neil kept scoffing at the word "professionals" over and over.   
Pitts, who had been yelling right alongside Richie a moment earlier, had gotten sick and tired of all the squabbling. He picked up a brick from where they had dropped them before anyone could protest, and flung it forcefully into the window. The glass shattered almost immediately on impact, and Pitts grabbed a thin metal post they had uprooted earlier in preparation and ran it along the perimeter of the window, to clear any glass that might be remaining around the edges.   
The boys were quiet as they watched him, half of them suppressing laughter and the other half genuinely disappointed.   
"Buzzkill." said Charlie as Pitts went ahead and stepped into the garage. Meeks followed closely behind, then Todd and Cameron. Knox pushed through his bandmates and went inside. Charlie huffed and looked at Neil, who rolled his eyes and gestured with his head in a "come on" way.   
They stepped inside and glass crunched under their boots, as various members of Leaves rummaged in various aisles. Cameron was trying to pry the cash register drawer open with a screwdriver and wasn't having much luck.  
"Where the fuck are the tires?" Meeks called from one aisle, several tools clanking to the ground after getting caught on his oversize t-shirt.   
Knox yelled that he had found them, and all of them zeroed in on the far back corner.   
The rack reached from the floor to the ceiling, but the tires didn't seem to be organized at all, and their labels couldn't be read in the darkness.   
"Shit." Meeks swore softly, and began to take the tires off the rack, trying to get a closer look at their measurements. He motioned to Todd, who joined him. The rest of the guys just stood and watched, not offering to help but all too happy to criticize their lifting technique.  
"You work out?" Charlie asked Meeks, his eyes focusing on his ass more than anything else, before meeting his fierce glare.   
"No." He answered, huffing as he set the tire on the ground hard, pretending Charlie's smirking face was underneath it. Todd was heaving a tire off the rack, and nearly fell backward when it thumped onto his chest.   
"Help, help!" he said weakly as Neil intervened and helped him set the tire on the ground.  
"These are both duds." Meeks said, rubbing his eyes and going in for another from the rack. 

All of a sudden, the wail of an alarm went up, deafening all of them, and Cameron dashed into the aisle holding a bundle of cash in his arms. "We gotta get the fuck out right now!"  
Knox sprang forward, just wildly grabbing tires, and lugging them all out toward the window. The rest of the boys followed his lead, and once outside, began feverishly looking for 14.5. Chris, upon opening her eyes, scrambled out of the car.   
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?"   
"We're getting you a tire. For the RV." Knox said, stooped over, trying to catch his breath.   
"KNOX! KEEP LOOKING, WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE THE PIGS SHOW UP!" That riled him back into action.   
"14.5!" Pitts yelled triumphantly, and began rolling it ferociously towards the car with the rest. Meeks slid into the driver's seat, and as the rest of the gang were scrambling to find a seat and get the tire where no one could see it, floored it. The tires screeched as he tried to peel out, and the old van's engine whined as he pushed the speedometer closer and closer to 100. Keating was bracing himself between the window and the headrest of the seat, Ginny was bracing himself against Keating, and Chris had no concern in bracing herself against anything, too busy was she in hyperventilating into a paper bag. Meeks saw an opportunity to make a U-turn and took it, throwing all of the passengers to one side. Once everyone had calmed down, and they were headed back toward the RV, Cameron said: "Who the fuck wires their alarm to the register and not to their windows? How the fuck does that make any sense?"  
"Why did you ask us about college degrees if you just planned on smashing it?" Pitts asked Knox, who now looked sheepish and ashamed at how anxious Chris was.  
"Well, the smashing plan was off-the-cuff, I was intending for us to like cut a hole in the glass or something like that."  
Pitts looked at him and blinked slowly, trying to come up with something to say to someone so absolutely moronic. He ended up saying nothing at all, and turned to look out the window, maneuvering the tire in his lap. Todd and Neil were sitting very quietly next to each other, both obviously attempting to not burst into laughter.   
"Just let it out, fuckers, Jesus."   
They broke into hysterics, tears streaming down their faces. "I'm glad you both found almost getting arrested for burglary so fucking amusing." Meeks glowered in the rearview mirror.   
"Dude, lighten up. Neil, I thought you would be, you know, like shitting your pants or something right now." Charlie said, almost laughing himself watching the two of them.   
"I thought it was going to be a lot more sophisticated and thought-out than just throwing a brick at a fucking window." He wheezed, leaning onto Todd to hold himself up. Charlie looked at Todd expectantly.   
"I think it's funny that he thinks it's funny."   
Ginny whipped around. "You're all fucking idiots! Complete goddamn morons! What if that place had had cameras, hmm? Or a better alarm? You'd be in jail! All of us!! We'd be accomplices!"   
Cameron spoke up from the back, still clutching a multitude of crumpled bills in his meaty hands. "I don't know what kind of business hooks an alarm up to the register and none to the window. They were kind of asking for it."  
"I'm gonna ignore that last statement, and instead focus on the fact that we have a tire now." Pitts motioned to the object that was currently weighing heavily on his groin.   
"Yeah, we have a tire now! And we got it for free!" Knox said, very proud of himself. 

He said this for the benefit of Chris, but she was busy hyperventilating into a paper bag to notice the verbal cue. The shoulder with the RV was coming up close ahead, and Meeks gunned it just a little bit to get there faster. 

_______________________________________________________________________

"You have a jack, right?" They were all crowded around the front left of the RV, their new tire propped haphazardly just off to the side. Pitts popped this burning question and judging by the looks he saw, decided that they did not.   
"We have a jack." Chris walked up confidently, face and posture composed and in control, not a hair out of place, looking nothing like the anxiety-riddled mess she had been just moments before. She opened one of the compartments and threw out a few pieces of minor equipment before pulling it out, with two hands.   
"Watch out, it's heavy!"  
"I can see that, Chris, thank you." Pitts took it from her hands and heaved it on the ground, crouching by the wheel well, figuring out a good place to put it.   
"Todd, can you go and grab my tools from the van?" He asked without turning around and Todd diligently unhooked himself from Neil's side and scurried off. Knox leaned into Neil.   
"The guy has tools. He's basically a professional." Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes so hard, he saw stars. The tool box made a heavy thunk as Todd deposited it next to its master, and the gang sat and watched Pitts work his magic. After a half hour of struggling, the tire was on and ready for action and there was a nice round of applause, like a bunch of old yuppies watching a golf tournament. Pitts stood up and wiped the sweat from his forehead, little smears of black grease spotting his face.   
Chris ran up and gave him a huge hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"  
Pitts didn't hug her, out of fear of getting anything on her clothes but he chuckled and assured her it was no problem.   
"Hey!" Knox looked put out. "It was my idea to get the tire in the first place!"  
"And it was a stupid one. Knox Overstreet, if you ever pull anything like that again, I'll kill you and bury your body where no one will ever find it." Chris pointed an angry maternal finger at him in emphasis, before getting into the RV.  
"Tough break, man." Meeks said in sympathy, putting a hand on his shoulder. Neil and Charlie followed the girls' lead and got onto the RV. Knox looked over at Pitts.  
"This whole thing? Like with the tools and the fixing? Really impressive. If I was into dudes, I would totally let you hit it." Pitts, flabbergasted, took a moment to respond.  
"Thanks. I'm flattered, really." Knox nodded in understanding and went to join his crew.  
Leaves had already left for the van, and Pitts hurried to clean up the jack and his tools before Chris got too eager and flattened him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i make a confession? i want greasy mechanic pitts to bone me, there i said it

**Author's Note:**

> nuwanda sounds like: green day, the clash  
> leaves of grass sounds like: appalachian terror unit, doom
> 
> please give me some feedback! thanks comrades


End file.
